


When This Is All Over

by monochromedelirious



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Being an Idiot, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Animagus, Christmas Fluff, Dadfoot, Death Eaters, Disguise, F/M, First War with Voldemort, Godfather - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, London Underground, M/M, Marauders, Moony - Freeform, Muggle London, POV Peter Pettigrew, POV Sirius Black, Padfoot - Freeform, Past Child Abuse, Peter Pettigrew Bashing, Post-First War with Voldemort, Post-Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Runaway Sirius Black, Sirius Black Gets a Trial, Sirius Black Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Sirius Black Never Went to Azkaban, Sirius Black Raises Harry Potter, Sirius Black cuts off all of his beautiful hair and it hurts, Sirius Black is James and Lily Potter's Secret Keeper, Sirius Black's Flying Motorbike, Ted Tonks is the biggest cinnamon roll that ever was, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:08:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 31,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24631321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monochromedelirious/pseuds/monochromedelirious
Summary: As he stands in the wreckage of his best friend's house, holding tight to baby Harry, Sirius Black has to decide whether to take the boy and run, or do what he's always done in the face of animosity, fight.And for what very well might have been the first time in his life, Sirius Black made the decision not to fight.
Relationships: Andromeda Black Tonks/Ted Tonks, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 131
Kudos: 350





	1. Prologue

Somewhere, through the blinding rage and crippling sorrow, he could see the way that this would all go. Could see the inside of the jail cell, could smell the cold dampness of the ocean, could feel his own breathlessness as everything good was sucked heartlessly from his being. He saw the dark-haired boy growing up with strangers, never told who he was, who they were, how important this all was. Getting older without understanding all that he had come from, without knowing the unwavering love that should have been in his life. He saw, in that moment, standing just outside the decimation of the cottage, everything that had just been stolen from the baby in his arms. 

His instinct was to fight. It had always been to fight. He fought, in whatever way he could, when his father loomed in the dark doorways of his childhood home. He fought when the jeers and insults and threats were thrown in paths of those he loved most. He fought in battles that left his friends wounded and dead. He fought in an unyielding effort to hold on to the few things that he had that were worth fighting for. He wanted to fight now. Fight for what was lost, fight for the boy who would grow up without knowing his parents. But as he took in a breath to steady himself, he realized that fighting for what was already gone was as futile as would be any attempt to restore it.

And for what very well might have been the first time in his life, Sirius Black made the decision not to fight.


	2. What Happened Next

PART ONE

The purple double-decker bus came to a screeching halt midway down Privet Drive, leaving jagged tire marks in its wake; but despite the disruption to the quiet suburban block, the only sign that it had been noticed at all was the expectant turning of two heads. The figures that had, moments ago, been conversing in hushed whispers turned towards the sound, the shorter of the two bringing a hand to her ear to shield it from the scraping of metal against metal. They stood silently as the door creaked open, and watched as a massive man with a wild beard exited the bus, the purple blur disappearing into the night almost the instant his foot hit pavement. 

“Hagrid,” said Dumbledore, looking relieved, “at last.” His calm expression faded after a moment, and he looked from one of the giant man’s empty hands to the other. 

“Where is the boy?” He asked, unable to hide the bit of panic that rose in his voice, “Where is Harry.” 

“ ‘e wouldn’ let me take ‘em,” Hagrid replied, ducking his head to look at the ground in front of him. 

“Who wouldn’t?” Minerva’s voice rose slightly, and she gave Dumbledore a panicked look. 

“ ‘e was already there when I got in,” Hagrid’s voice wavered, “Told me ‘e ‘ad legal right to the baby, that’s ‘e’s ‘is guardian now.” 

“But who--?” Minerva was cut off by Dumbledore’s calm hand on her shoulder. 

“Thank you, Rubeus.” Dumbledore’s tone was resolved. “You’ve done well.” he turned to McGonagall. “Minerva, if you wouldn’t mind escorting Hagrid back to Hogwarts, I think I might take a short visit to see Andromeda and Ted. Their daughter is almost of age to attend school, and I’ve been meaning to pop in and discuss some of the nuances of having a Metamorphmagus at Hogwarts--”

“But Albus, you can’t just--”

“Things have a way of turning up, Minerva.” Dumbledore replied, reaching into his robes for the lighter-like device. “And I imagine that I won’t be the only one seeking out the assistance of Mrs. Tonks this evening.” He pressed the button on the deluminator and then vanished into the air. 

***

After what felt like an eternity, but was likely only a few hours, Sirius woke to the sound of a small voice blabbering away at the sun. He squinted at the light that poured in through the window, a sign that somewhere, outside of the wreckage of his friends’ house, out in a world that had never heard the name Voldemort, life was moving forward. Even though the Potters were dead, even though his own world had come to a spiraling end, someone, somewhere, was looking forward to this day. As he looked towards the small body next to his, now sitting upright in the pile of blankets and pillows he’d thrown on the floor of the sitting room, he couldn’t help but smile at Harry’s chattering, and the thought struck him that his godson’s world could still rotate steadily on its axis, and maybe, someday, Sirius could pick up his pieces and join Harry in his journey around the sun.

It took him a few more moments to realize that he’d unconsciously shifted back to his human form at some point during the night. Falling asleep in the dog’s body, or more importantly, the dog’s mind, had become something of an escape for Sirius. Sleep came easier, particularly when he was sleeping alone, when he could let himself sink into the simplicity of the canine brain, who’s emotions were not weighed down by the complexity of all it was to be human. 

But here he was, human. And fully aware of each small facet of his emotion; the anger, fear, guilt, and grief only satiated by the love he felt for this child. 

He looked around the unfamiliar room, grateful to have found the unoccupied house he had broken into, but uneasy at the idea of being caught, despite the wards that he had put up to ensure they couldn’t be found. His eyes landed on green eyes. _Those_ eyes. 

“Wotcher, little Prongslette,” he smiled and ruffled the baby’s hair. “Reckon’ we need to find us both something to eat.”

“Nanar!” Harry squealed. 

Sirius chuckled, “Banana it is, let’s go, mate.” He scooped Harry up and sighed as he sent all of the blankets and cushions back to their homes with a wave of his wand. 

“And then we’re going to visit Cousin Andromeda.” 

***

It didn’t take long for validation of the fact that choosing a Muggle cafe for breakfast was the right idea. 

“You’re quite the charmer, little fawn,” Sirius grinned despite himself, shaking his head slightly as the third woman to approach them left the table smiling. “Imma hafta make sure we teach you to use those powers for good, yeah mate?”

“Faaawwwwwn!” Harry clapped, splattering the pieces of mushy banana that were still on his hands. He was so blissfully unaware that the entire wizarding world was probably out searching for him and Sirius felt a pang of what might have been envy. 

Sirius sighed, and finished his last few sips of coffee, then carefully counted out the Muggle money from his pocket and left a few quid more than what was necessary on the table before scooping Harry up and walking out into the damp morning. 

Sirius liked London. London was easy. He could disappear there; as he walked down the street, Harry on his hip, he could become any other normal Muggle bloke with his kid. It was just as good as putting on the invisibility cloak, at least he thought so until he walked by the window of a shop selling tellies, and saw, to his shock, a picture of Harry flickering on the screen. 

_Missing_ , the text below the boy’s unscarred face said, _possible kidnapping_. 

“Oi, fucking wanker mother fucker,” Sirius swore, then ducked into the next empty alleyway, not wanting to waste any more time before he got them somewhere safe.


	3. Andromeda

On September 2nd, 1971, Andromeda Black, a determined look plastered on her face, made her way down towards the Great Hall, and after waiting around a corner for at least fifteen minutes, she grabbed the wrist of a dark-haired first year and pulled him unceremoniously into an empty classroom. 

“I’m too adorable to be kidnapped!” Sirius shrieked as he was dragged down the corridor.

“Are you going to yell at me too?” He asked, crossing his arms, as he sank into one of the desks in the classroom. “Mum’s already sent a howler, and I heard that Bellatrix is planning my murder. I didn’t even do anything.” 

Andromeda frowned at him. “I’ve come to tell you to be careful. Yelling in the halls like that is sure to get you noticed, and that’s the last thing you need right now. I hope you understand that.” She paused, mindful of her phrasing. “Bella is not to be trifled with, even within Hogwarts. She’s older, much more powerful, and has a group of friends who are loyal to her. You can’t imagine how much goes on in this school without a professor taking notice.” 

“She doesn’t scare me,” he returned, “and besides, s’not as if I have any control over the— bloody— sorting hat! I just put the ugly thing on my head, it did the rest. And now Mum’s mad, and Father’s probably taking it out on Regulus, and I’m stuck here in a classroom being told to behave by you. _I didn’t even do anything!_ ” He smirked. “This time.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” she looked at him cooly, “Bella scares me sometimes. You’d do well to remember that and give her a wide berth. Try not to be your obstinate little self for once in your life.” 

He sighed, getting annoyed, “everyone in our family thinks I try to get in trouble all of the time, and it’s not true!” He bit the inside of his cheek and then grinned, “I only try about half of the time.”

“Sirius.” She said his name in a low, level voice, hoping it would calm his indignance, if only for a moment. “You’re not in trouble, and I’m not here to yell at you.” 

“You could have started with that.”

She took a breath. This was too important to risk pushing him away. “Fine. You’re right.” 

Sirius sighed, “I get it, I think. S’not fair, though.” He stood up and started walking around the room, “I can understand why I get in trouble when I nick extra dessert or talk back or break something, but I didn’t have any control over this.” He looked at her, “You don’t think Father’s going to hurt Regulus because of me, do you?” 

“Whatever Orion does is not because of you, Sirius. He and Walburga will do as they please, and not much will change that. But your parents haven’t lost you as their heir, and that counts for something.” She would have offered platitudes if she thought they would do him any good. 

“I’ll still feel bad,” Sirius admitted. 

“You’re a good brother. You’ve always been there for him.” She paused, “And I want to be there for you. Whenever you need it, alright?” 

He nodded and made a mental note to take her up on that.

***

April 1974. It was morning mail delivery. Owls filled the Great Hall, and Sirius found himself grateful that the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables were far enough away from each other that it was easy for him to send an owl from one table to another without much notice. 

Need your help. Meet me in that classroom. Half nine. 

SB

He snuck out of the hall shortly thereafter, having watched his cousin open the folded note just moments before. He was waiting for her in the classroom, pacing slightly with excitement. 

Andromeda crumpled up the piece of parchment, tossing it in the bin on her way out of the Great Hall. As she walked through the halls, she was careful to keep her pace steady to avoid the suspicion of any passing housemates. “Sirius,” she greeted him as she walked into the classroom, “I take it this isn’t a social call?” 

“I need a favor.” Andromeda was a straightforward person, and Sirius saw no need to beat around the bush. 

Her eyebrows shot up, curious. “Oh? That’s why I’m here?” She sat down in a nearby chair, crossing her legs. “I’m hurt, cousin, that you only send for me when you need something.”

“You’ve no issue when Ted Tonks does it,” He said wryly, “where is our favorite Hufflepuff today, I wonder?” 

Andromeda looked at him dangerously and ignored the comment. “One of my conditions for helping you is that you stop referring to this room as that room.”

“Seemed an easy reference point,” he shrugged, “and avoided anyone else knowing what I was talking about.” He grinned, “would you prefer I’d requested a meeting in the ‘classroom where Sirius Black caught Andromeda Black halfway to shag city with a Hufflepuff?’”

“You’re disgusting. You talk about it like it was some sort of tawdry affair.” 

“Is it not?” 

She hesitated. “No, it’s not.” 

Sirius raised his eyebrows, “well that complicates things.”

She laughed, “It certainly does.”

“Yeah,” After a few moments of measured silence, he spoke again, “So about that favor?” 

“As long as it has nothing to do with our family.” 

“Not at all. I-- uh-- need some ingredients,” he met her gaze, “From the potions storeroom. Slughorn will let you in, because you’re in 7th, and because--” it was well known that Slughorn favored the students from well-to-do families. 

She narrowed her eyes. “What do you need that you don’t already have access to?” 

Sirius looked down at his feet for a moment and then back up at her. “Mandrake leaves.” 

Sitting up straighter in her chair, Andromeda asked, “Do I want to know why?”

“Probably not,” he shrugged and smirked at her. 

Andromeda gave him a skeptical look before agreeing. “What did you have in mind?” 

“Tell Slug you want to research the restorative properties. I really only need three leaves, but six would be ace— just in case.” He thought for a moment. “Wrap them up and owl them to me. Easy.” 

“You have to know that this is not what I’d meant when I said I’d always be there,” she smirked, “I’ll ask Slughorn in potions tomorrow — you’ll have them by the end of the week.” 

***

In the summer of 1976, a bruised, bleeding, and rain-soaked Sirius Black knocked on the door of the Potter Manor at approximately half two in the morning. 

Once he was healed, cleaned, fed, and rested, Euphemia, who would from this moment become his adoptive mother, placed a gentle hand on his good shoulder and knelt down in front of him. “What we have is yours, love, and we will always be here for you to come home to.” 

Sirius had narrowed his eyes at her, processing the familiar words before letting out a long sigh. “Mind if I use the floo, Mum?” he asked with the hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. 

“Not at all, dear.” 

***

Ted Tonks looked up from the Prophet when he saw the fireplace flash, folding the paper neatly and placing it on the arm of his oversized chair. “Wotcher--” he said, smiling hesitantly at Sirius. 

“Can I come in, Ted?” Sirius was already uncomfortable from kneeling, his entire body protesting the unfamiliar distribution of weight. 

“Yeah, mate, ‘course.” Ted paused as Sirius shifted, “I’ll go grab Andy, she’s putting Dora down for a nap.” 

Sirius was standing in the sitting room when Andromeda came in from the corridor, wide-eyed concern plastered across the regal lines of her face. 

“Sirius.” She crossed the room with her arms out as though to hug him, but stopped herself when he froze and winced in anticipation of being touched. “Oh, sweetheart, what did they do to you?” 

Sirius let out a rueful chuckle. “I’ve been joking for a while that all Orion’s got left is to try and kill me,” Sirius said, then let out a stifled huff of laughter, “he checked that one off this week.” 

Her face fell. “Sit. I’ll have Ted make some tea.”


	4. Seeking Safety

Sirius tried to imagine Andromeda’s reaction when he showed up at her door with a child, and quickly dismissed the thought, because at the end of the day, he had nowhere else to turn. 

The proper thing to do would have been to owl before he showed up on the doorstep unannounced, but having seen that even the Muggle media was not only aware of his wanted status, but also had pointed at him as having kidnapped Harry, he thought it prudent to keep his actions and movements low key. 

Once he was sure no one could see the pair of them hiding in the alley, Sirius apparated to just outside of his building in the dodgy area between Muggle and Wizarding London, swearing when he saw the shadows of bodies through the window of his flat. He turned quickly towards the Muggle side of the street, and started walking. 

“Well, we’re buggered, aren’t we, little fawn?”

Harry smiled and laughed back at him and Sirius was taken for a moment by how much the child resembled James. The dimple next to his nose when he laughed, the untidy hair that had become the bane of Lily’s existence. Even his hands, which, despite their size and the fading chubbiness of the fingers, somehow looked like James’s with their round nails, dark creases, and the animated way they seemed to reflect every emotion that the toddler was feeling. 

“So, whada yathink?” He shifted Harry to his other hip as they kept walking, “Want to make a bit of mischief?” 

Once the seedy area of the city fully enveloped the pair, Sirius ducked into the alleyway that concealed the entrance to one of the grimy tosser bars he’d frequented when he was feeling particularly self-destructive. After casting a quick homenum revelio to ensure that the place was empty, Sirius unlocked the door with his wand, and cast a few protective spells as he closed and locked the door from the inside. 

He put Harry down for a moment, stretching the muscles that, while equipped for things like Quidditch, had never held the weight of a toddler for an extended period of time. 

“No idea how your Mum carted you about everywhere, mate, you’re as big as a bicorn.”

“So big!” Harry threw his arms into the air. 

Sirius let out a bark of laughter, “Yeah, mate, so big. Come on.” 

He turned to walk towards the washroom, making sure that Harry was following behind him. Once in there he locked that door too, just in case, and hoisted Harry up to sit on the counter next to the sink. For the first time in days, Sirius looked at himself in the mirror, barely recognizing the emptiness in his eyes. He looked between his own grey eyes and the bright green ones of the child in front of him and sighed before lifting his wand and touching it to Harry’s head. The dark locks that were so reminiscent of James’s faded to a dusty blonde, a stark contrast to the child’s deep skin, but it was enough to make a difference. Biting the inside of his cheek, Sirius then transfigured Harry’s little shirt into a dress, coming down over his trousers and shoes. He took a step back and nodded in approval of his work. 

“Alright, my turn,” he let out a long sigh, then reached up to pull at the elastic that held his hair up in what had become his signature bun. “Fuck all,” he groaned, grabbing the lengths of his hair in a fist and all but closing his eyes as he pulled up over his head and then sliced his wand through the tresses. He swallowed hard and let out a shaky breath as he dropped the hair to the floor, then looked up at himself once more. As he started to even out the ragged edges, it was as though he was watching himself transform into some other version of Sirius Black, one who’s defined cheekbones and regal features were characteristic of the antiquated mindset of the world he had worked so hard to distance himself from. 

Sirius craned his neck and pulled down on the collar of his tee shirt, carefully disillusioning the most visible of his tattoos so that they faded into his skin. He picked Harry up again, turning them both towards the mirror. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough; even if a Muggle noticed his resemblance to the image of the man on the tellie, he was missing the most recognizable of his features. 

“That’ll have to do until we get to cousin Andy’s,” he ruffled Harry’s hair, then with one more wistful look at the dark pile of hair on the floor, he retreated from the mirror, and left the pub for the streets again, making sure to stick to Muggle transportation for the duration of the trip up to the Tonks’s.

***

“Again, I apologize for the early intrusion,” Dumbledore smiled as Andromeda returned to the room, having taken a few minutes to wash up and dress for the unexpected company. 

“No bother at all,” she sat across from him, nodding her thanks when Ted brought the pair of them some tea.

“Mr. Tonks, I thank you,” Dumbledore sipped at the tea for a moment before setting it down. “I expect you’ve heard both the news?” 

“We have,” Ted replied, standing behind Andromeda as she sat and laying his hands on her shoulders. “Is he really gone?” 

“As far as our intelligence can tell, yes, although I am hesitant to say anything definitive.”

“And the rest?”

“The rumors that are spreading are surprisingly accurate,” Dumbledore took a sip of his tea and then pushed his glasses back up his crooked nose. “Which is, I admit, my motive for invading your lovely home at such an early hour.” 

“What does this have to do with us?” Andromeda’s tone was flat, almost defensive, although she softened a bit when Ted squeezed her shoulder. “Because I’m reticent to believe that your motivation for showing up here is only with concern about my daughter’s schooling.” 

“Ever the shrewd woman you are,” Dumbledore smiled, “my motives in this case are many, and as I expect that my obligations to the Wizengamot are about to over-encumber me for the foreseeable future, it seemed a fantastic opportunity to-- as the Muggles say-- kill two birds with one stone.” 

“And what, then, is the other bird?” 

“A person rather than a breed of fowl.” Dumbledore replied steadily, “One that I expect will make himself known quite soon--”

No sooner did Dumbledore speak the words there was a knock at the door. Andromeda froze visibly, looking up at Ted with desperation in her eyes, and without missing a beat he kissed her on the head and ran down the hallway to where Nymphadora was still asleep in her bed. 

Andromeda rose gracefully from the chair, pursing her lips and slipping her hand into her pocket to grasp at her wand before she went to open the door. She paused for a moment before turning the handle, and narrowed her eyes at Dumbledore, who, contrary to being at all alarmed was examining the pattern on his tea saucer. 

Her face softened when the door opened to reveal her younger cousin, and then went wide-eyed at the sight of the little girl he was holding. “Sirius,” she said softly, “You look awful.” 

“Nicest thing you’ve ever said to me Andy,” he forced a small smile, “Can we come in?” 

“Yes, dear, of course, you should just know that--” 

“Mr. Black,” Dumbledore smiled as he rose from the sofa, and Sirius instinctively grabbed for his wand and pointed it at the bearded man, turning so that he was between Albus and Harry. “I mean no harm, Sirius, and am happy to see that both you and young Mr. Potter here are no worse for the wear.” 

“I won’t let you take him--” Sirius said in a low growl. “I’m his godfather.” 

“Potter?” Andromeda looked at Sirius, “Sirius, did you--” 

“Of this I am aware, Mr. Black,” Dumbledore interrupted her, “but there is much that needs to be sorted before the legitimacy of that can be assured, so I’d ask that you deposit the child with your cousin should she be amenable, and then take a seat so we can figure this out.” 

Sirius swallowed hard before lowering his wand, then turned to looked at Andromeda, his eyes pleading, “He needs a wash,” he said softly, “and some salve for the cut on his head,” he paused, taking stock of Harry, “and a new nappy I’d expect, I’ve just been scourgifying the one he’s in, I’m sure it’s going to wear down soon, and--” 

“Sirius,” Andromeda’s voice gave Sirius the first hint of comfort he’d had in days, and he reluctantly passed the baby to her, watching intently as she carted Harry off down the corridor to the washroom. 

“Please sit,” Dumbledore gestured to the chair where Andromeda had been seated before. 

Sirius obliged, albeit reluctantly, his eyes now fixed on Dumbledore for any sign of a threat. 

“You’ve been through quite a lot in the past few days, I gather,” Dumbledore mused in a tone that one would have expected had he been a birder remarking on a particularly attractive jay out the window. “I imagine there are things that you might be interested in sharing, considering the fact that, last I heard, you were assigned the role of the Potter’s Secret Keeper.” 

Sirius pressed his eyes shut at that, a small, almost canine sound of grief escaping the tightening muscles of his throat. “I switched with--” he said, almost silently. 

“Ahh, now this is information that could be quite valuable to us, Mr. Black, please continue.” 

“I fucking killed them,” his voice quavered, tears threatening the corners of his eyes. “I killed James and Lily.” 

“Now, Mr. Black,” Dumbledore seemed unphased by this admission, “from what the evidence suggests it was Voldemort that killed the Potters, so I have a hard time believing--” 

“The whole Order knew it was me. That I was the Secret Keeper. Even if they didn’t know, I was the best guess. And so I knew that they would come after me, wanted them to even. Seemed an easy price to pay to keep James and Lily safe. But I thought-- I thought that if I had them switch Keepers, it would double down on the protection, then even if they caught and killed me, they would still be protected. I would have become a decoy, bought us more time--” 

“A noble thought, certainly one Godric himself would be proud of.” 

“It was him.” Sirius looked back up at Dumbledore, fiery anger ablaze in his eyes. “Peter.” 

“Pettigrew?” 

“He sold them out. He was the double-agent, there’s no other explanation for it-- but it’s my fault, I should have known, should have realized--” 

“Sirius, there is no use dwelling on decisions that we cannot remake.” 

“I just-- who would have thought it would be him--?” 

“Then let us learn from this,” Dumbledore stood. “Underestimating those we deem weaker than ourselves is a dangerous pattern to fall into.” 

Sirius nodded, silent tears now streaming down his face. “I’m so sorry.”

“You have done well, though, Sirius.” Dumbledore crossed the room to place a reassuring hand on Sirius’s shoulder. “The boy is what’s important now, and if what you’re saying is true, and you’d be willing to testify--” 

“Yes, anything--” 

“Then I think we should be able to sort out young Harry’s guardianship. You are certain that you are ready for the responsibility of such importance?” 

“No,” Sirius said simply, “But I won’t let anyone else do it.” 

“Very well then.”


	5. An Unlikely Alliance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief allusion to child abuse in this chapter. Take care of yourselves <3

Sirius was far too distracted with worry over Harry to fight the suggestion that he ingest veritaserum before his Wizengamot hearing, despite the fear that he would reveal something he’d have preferred to keep hidden somewhere in the depths of his mind. But Dumbledore assured him that this was what he needed to do for Harry, and so he did it, invasive questions and all.

“Aren’t members of your family known Death Eaters?” 

“Yes.” 

“And you’re telling us you have no association with any of them?” 

“None.” 

“This seems unlikely, Mr. Black, would you care to elucidate?” 

“I have had no contact with any member of my family, the exception being Andromeda Tonks, who is also estranged, in almost 5 years. I expect I’ve been long blasted off the family tree, and have no interest in trying to reclaim anything that was theirs.” 

“Why did you break contact with them?”

“You mean aside from the fact that I was my father’s favorite punching bag?” Sirius winced at the admission, then rubbed his face with his hands and looked up again, “I don’t believe in Pureblood superiority, nor do I have any interest in any of their other twisted bull pizzle-- Sorry.” 

There were a few chuckles from the crowd. 

The line of inquiry continued, with questions about James and Lily, and then Peter. 

“You had no suspicion of Mr. Pettigrew’s supposed betrayal?”

“No.”

“Which was why you asked him to take your place as Secret-Keeper?” 

“Yes.”

“But you knew that someone close to you had defected.” 

“Yes.”

“And who did you suspect that was?” 

Sirius squeezed his eyes shut, trying to fight the potion flowing through his veins. 

“Mr. Black?” 

He swallowed. “Remus Lupin.” 

“And you have no idea of either Mr. Lupin or Mr. Pettigrew’s current whereabouts?” 

“No.” 

The deliberation didn’t last long, but the minutes felt like hours to Sirius, who was sitting on the floor against the wall, his legs bent at the knees so he could make himself small. Dumbledore smiled when he exited the deliberation room, nodding at Sirius to stand and join him. 

“You’ve done well, Mr. Black.” 

“So I get to keep Harry?” 

“I would seem so, and they’ve dropped the kidnapping charges. The Muggle media will be contacted shortly to pull the information.” 

“Cut my fucking hair off for naught-- Sorry.” Sirius winced again.

“Interesting that the veritaserum seems to have proven that you do have something of a filter when you want, Mr. Black.” 

Sirius just rolled his eyes. 

“We do have one more matter to attend to here, and thankfully I was able to schedule us in a private meeting room,” Dumbledore had a knowing smile on his face. “While the potion will soon be wearing off, I would still like to caution you to have an open mind about all that you’re about to be told--” 

“The fuck you on about, professor?” 

“In good time, my boy.” 

They spent the rest of the short walk in a silence that was broken the moment Dumbledore held open the door to the meeting room and Sirius saw who was inside.

“Fuck no,” Sirius almost growled, the defensiveness of the canine brain coming to the surface. “You’re bloody mad if you think I’m stepping into a room with him, he’s fucking one of them.” 

“I would like to remind you that I did ask for you to have an open mind.” Dumbledore ushered an unwilling Sirius into the room, where their third companion sat, waiting. “There is valuable information that concerns Harry that only the two of us have.” He gestured across the table.

“What fucking information!?” Sirius glared across the room, “What could you possibly know that I give a fat-flying-fuck about!?” 

“I apologize, Mr. Snape,” Dumbledore said calmly, “Mr. Black has been given a dose of veritaserum--”

“So you know it’s the truth when I call you a slimy piece of inhuman filth that I would only pick off my shoe so I could piss on it.” 

“That’s quite colorful, Mr. Black.” Dumbledore’s tone was calm as he pulled out a chair for himself. “Now please sit. Severus and I have been long burdened with information that warrants sharing, especially if you’re to be raising Harry.” 

“I would still like to register my concerns about that decision,” Severus finally spoke. “Is it wise to leave Lily’s child with someone of Black’s many _proclivities?”_

“How dare you say her bloody name--” 

“While I’m sure you both have some catching up to do,” Dumbledore’s brow furrowed, “We need to get down to business. Severus, Sirius is Harry’s legal guardian. That’s all there is to be said about that, and Sirius, Severus, like you, has made mistakes that have led us to where we are at present, but is now here to remedy what he can in the fight against the Dark Lord.” 

“The Dark Lord is dead.” Sirius said plainly. 

“Ahh, yes, at present it seems he may be,” Dumbledore mused, “But I suspect he’s put systems in place that might show themselves as time moves forward. But that is another conversation for another time.” 

“What do you mean, systems--?”

“We are here today not to talk about the Dark Lord, but to talk about Harry, and more specifically, why Voldemort took such an interest in the Potters.”

“It’s because _he_ told Voldemort about Lily,” Sirius shot out, glaring at Snape. “About how good she was. And You-Know-Who tried to recruit her. James too. And they refused, and of course they did, because they weren’t rubbish excuses for wizards, not like you.” 

“Have you finished, Black?” Severus asked cooly. 

“Haven’t decided yet.” Sirius spoke through gritted teeth. 

Snape rolled his eyes. 

“These things are true, Sirius,” Dumbledore said patiently, “but digress from our purpose today, and I will ask that you try to refrain from further interruptions lest we overstay our welcome in this room.” 

“Fine.” 

Dumbledore nodded and looked at Severus, “I will relay as much as I can from my perspective, but do let me know if I’ve misrepresented things.” He folded his hands in front of him. “I think it best we start with the open Divination teaching position at Hogwarts.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes, “What does--”   
Dumbledore put up his hand to silence him. “I was personally inclined to remove the subject from our curriculum entirely, seems an absurd thing to teach, but that’s neither here nor there. When the position opened, I was contacted by Sybill Trelawney, the descendant of the great Cassandra, and she requested an interview.” He looked absentmindedly off for a moment, “We had a brief interview, in which she did nothing that particularly impressed me, but as we were about to part ways, she seemed to go into a trance of sorts, and delivered what I now know to be quite the interesting prophecy.” 

“But what does he have to do with it?” Sirius gestured towards Snape. 

“Ah,” Dumbledore smiled, “that is where things get interesting. So Severus here thought it smart to spy on what I was doing should there be any information worth passing onto his master.” Sirius glared at Snape but didn’t say anything, “and he delivered word of the prophecy.” 

“What did it say?” Sirius looked between the pair. “And why is he still alive and sitting here?”

“Ahh, that is where things get truly interesting.” Dumbledore continued, “Severus delivered the information he received, which indicated that a child born at the end of July, whose parents had thrice defied the Dark Lord, would be the only being capable of destroying him. This, of course, could have referred to two of our Order, either young Mr. Longbottom, or--” 

“Harry.” Sirius said solemnly. 

“Precisely. And I believe, after Severus realized that Voldemort was under the impression that the prophecy was about the Potters, he, like you, Sirius, realized that he had made a vital mistake. I think, Severus, it may be best for you to take over from here.” 

Snape nodded, then stood from his chair and drew his wand. Sirius reached for his own until he realized what spell Severus was casting, and he watched, wide-eyes glazed with tears, as the doe walked about the table for a moment before returning back to Snape.

“You bastard,” Sirius sneered, “How dare you-- She despised you--” 

Severus closed his eyes for a moment before sitting once more. “I am not proud of my choices.” He said quietly, the admission clearly one that he was reluctant to make, “The moment I realized what I’d done, I came to Dumbledore.” 

“And this,” Dumbledore said, “Is why the Potters needed to go into hiding. Why they needed you, Sirius.” 

Sirius put his head in his hands. “But why didn’t they tell me?”

“I asked them not to,” Dumbledore looked at Sirius, “The fewer people that knew this information, the better, and they were willing to do anything to keep young Harry safe.” 

“But I’m-- they--” 

“A lot of secrets have been kept in the past few years, I think you’d agree with that, Mr. Black.” 

Sirius let out a frustrated breath.

“And as you both feel as though you’ve failed those that you love,” Dumbledore started again, “I think this provides us with a starting place to make a truce. That is, if we are all in agreement on one crucial point.” 

“And what’s that?” Sirius’s voice had grown weary. 

“We need to do whatever is in our power to protect the boy. Keep him safe until his purpose is revealed to us.”

“How do we know we can trust _him?_ ” Sirius pointed across the table once more. 

“ _I_ trust him.” Came Dumbledore’s quick reply, “And I should like to hope that you trust me.” He stood and looked between them. “Are we in agreement that the three of us will serve as protectors of Harry?” 

Snape nodded without hesitation. Sirius followed suit a moment later. 

“Yes.”


	6. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my darling @esskem for being my involuntary beta-reader. 
> 
> Lots of feels in this chapter, not much action, so I apologize for not moving the story along all that much. 
> 
> Comments give me life, so keep 'em coming.

Sirius wasn’t aware of just how exhausted he was until he stepped foot back into Andromeda’s living room and took stock of the way she was looking at him from her spot on the sofa. While certainly kinder than her sisters, Andromeda had always been so guarded, so stoic, so unflappable, and Sirius struggled to process the fact that her face seemed to have lost its controlled sobriety in favor of pure empathy. 

“Sirius--” she let out a long sigh, opening her arms slightly towards him. He nodded and shrugged off his jacket before sitting next to her on the sofa, staring at her blankly for a few moments, and then burying his face in her shoulder as he started to cry. 

“Oh, lamb.” She pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head as she wrapped her arms around him. “Darling, you are doing everything right,” she held him for a moment longer before nudging him off her shoulder so that she could look him in the eye, “You’re doing everything right,” she said again, “Despite all you’ve been through from the beginning, you’re doing what you need to in order to move forward, and that little boy is lucky he has you.” 

Sirius swallowed and let out a long sigh. “Thanks, Andy.” He tested out a small smile that quickly faded into a grimace that he ducked his head to hide. “I just can’t believe they’re gone.” He pictured them all in turn, the playful smirk on James’s face, the apples and cinnamon smell of Lily’s hair, Peter’s nose, wrinkled and playful, and the golden-brown eyes of Remus, staring down at him with a smile. “They’re all gone.” He looked up at her, “you’re all I’ve got left.”

“Perhaps,” she smiled at him, “But there is a world of good inside of these four walls, and you’ve always been a part of that.” She touched his cheek, “Do you need anything, lovey?” 

“Harry went down alright?” 

“Like a rock, the poor dear. But I’m asking about you.” 

“I’m fine,” he said softly, “I think I might head out for a ride if you don’t mind keeping an ear on the little one.” 

“My pleasure.”

***

The decision to purchase the bike had been borne of a desire for rebellion. Newly free from the confines and consternation of his childhood home, and with all of his anxiety about the future alleviated by a vault full of money that was somehow now his, the motorbike was Sirius’s way of choosing a piece of life for himself. It was a symbol of a world that existed so far from the one in which he grew up. Loud, and reckless, and requiring one to get dirty in order to maintain it, the antithesis of all of the things that he tried so hard to escape from. 

But now the bike didn’t feel as much like an escape from the world as it was a means of understanding it. The wind biting at his face and the roar of the engine allowed him to focus, to think, to break down the complexity of his emotions into small understandable things. James was dead. That he understood. The truth of it was simple enough to comprehend, but the consequences of that truth were something that Sirius hadn’t had the time to yet consider. 

James was dead. He would never again see the glint of mischief in those eyes at fuck-all in the morning, ready to go make trouble. He would never again wake from a nightmare to those calloused hands pressed down on his shoulders, the weight of his friend bringing him back to reality from the deep horrors of his mind. He would never again hear the sound of their laughter echoing each other, or feel the dull ache of what had become an almost permanent bruise on his upper arm from years of play fighting. 

And Lily. The light of the patient smile that lived behind the emerald of her eyes was forever faded, the long conversations about Regulus and Petunia and choosing your own family forever silenced. She would never again roll her eyes at whatever nonsense ‘her boys’ would come up with. Her beautiful face would never again light up with pride each and every time Harry spoke a new word, or laughed at something she did, or fell asleep at her breast. 

Then Peter. Peter, who had been the one to piece together the fact that a werewolf couldn’t turn other animals. Peter, who had cheered them on at every Quidditch match. Peter, who had become the brother that Sirius needed when Regulus dismissed him. Peter, who had betrayed them all. 

With all of that out of the way, Sirius moved on to think about Harry. That perfect baby boy, asleep in the spare room at his cousin’s, who couldn’t conceive of the fact that his Mum and Pop were never coming back. Sirius let out a long breath at the thought, and in that moment promised himself that he would do whatever he could to keep James and Lily alive for their son. Harry needed to know, deserved to know, that his existence was the result of unwavering compassion, bravery, humor, and love, even in the face of everything that was evil about the world. He nodded to himself at that thought, and the silent agreement he made between himself and his Godson signaled the end of this evening’s ride.

The house was quiet when he returned, and Sirius found himself grateful for the few moments to himself. After he’d changed into pyjamas and checked on Harry, who was snoring quietly under the blanket that Sirius had taken from the wreckage of the cottage, he wandered back to the sitting room and poured himself a glass of some brown Muggle liquor that Ted kept around, then stepped back out into the night air, lit a long overdue cigarette, and sighed. 

***

He woke the next morning to the sound of laughter and the smell of bacon coming from down the hallway. It was jarring at first, Sirius realized, to wake up not to silence, or to unrest, but to the sense of something that resembled normalcy. He rubbed sleep from his eyes as he walked down the corridor to the sitting room, where Andromeda was sitting on the sofa with her tea, watching with pride as Nymphadora lay on her stomach on the floor, across from where Harry sat, and changing her face and features in ways that made the toddler shriek with glee. 

“They’ve been at this for near half an hour,” Andromeda looked up at him with a smile. 

“His favorite is when I go multi-coloured!” Nymphadora wrinkled her nose and changed each of her facial features to a different bright color, so that she looked like some sort of bizarre cubist painting. Harry squealed and laughed so hard that he nearly fell over. 

“You could have woken me.” Sirius went to sit beside Andromeda, not taking his eyes from the pair. 

“Oh, please don’t fool yourself into thinking that this is going to be a regular occurrence, cousin,” Andromeda looked over at him and smirked, “You’re getting an allowance because you had a court hearing yesterday, but I’ll have you know that I’ve paid my ‘waking up at ungodly hours of the morning’ dues, and I do not fancy a return to doing that, even for a baby as adorable as this one.” She gestured to Harry.

“Fair,” Sirius said with a chuckle, “And noted.” 

“ _You’ve_ taken on the responsibility of this child, and I am happy to help you adjust to that, and thrilled to have you with us as long as you need to be, but _you_ are his guardian, and _you_ will act accordingly.” 

Sirius nodded, and then leaned in to give Andromeda a kiss on the cheek. 

“Morn’!” Ted came from the kitchen with a tray of breakfast foods, which he laid down on the coffee table before turning to Sirius. “Coffee or tea, mate?” 

“Oh,” Sirius looked up at Ted, “Coffee, yeah. That’d be ace.” 

“How’d you take it?”

“No sugar, bit of cream, if it’s not any trouble.” 

“None at all.” Ted smiled and turned back to the kitchen, returning moments later with a steaming hot cup for Sirius. 

“Did Harry eat anything?” Sirius looked down at the grinning child. 

“He stole half my muffin with marmalade,” Nymphadora shouted, “but that’s okay, I can share with him.” 

Sirius took a sip of his coffee, and reached for a scone off the breakfast tray. 

“So everyone finds Dora’s talents amusing, I see?” 

“I can be anything I want to be!” The girl declared proudly. 

Sirius laughed and Andromeda turned towards him and shrugged, “I have long since stopped kidding myself that I will ever have control over this one.” 

Sirius bit his lip and smirked, then raised a playful eyebrow at Andromeda. 

“Oi, Dora,” he said, putting his mug of coffee down, “You want to see something really brilliant?” 

“Yeah!” She pushed herself to a sit and pulled Harry into her lap. 

Sirius shook his head at himself and then stood, his small smirk growing into an expression full of mischief. “I just need to get your Mum to agree not to tell a secret.” 

Nymphadora looked over at her mother, wide-eyed. “Mum, please, I want to know the secret, you won’t tell, will you?” 

“Sirius--” Andromeda looked at him skeptically, “is this something we should discuss?” 

“Not at all,” Sirius winked at her and then transformed, the black mutt sitting on the floor where the man had once stood. 

Everyone in the room reacted at once: Andromeda let out a gasp, Ted cocked his head and smiled, Dora let out a sound of excitement, and Harry clapped his hands and shouted, “Pa-foo! Pa-foo!” 

Sirius changed back after a few moments, smiling sheepishly. 

“You’re a dog!” Nymphadora grinned. 

“You’re an animagus.” Andromeda raised an eyebrow. “Unregistered, I take it, if we’re meant to keep this quiet.”

“Yeah, I’d appreciate that, not looking to get in trouble with the Ministry for something that I did at fourteen.” 

“Fourteen?” Ted asked, in a tone that was almost impressed. 

Sirius winced and nodded. 

Andromeda sat back down on the sofa and heated her now cold tea with her wand. “Not that I’m entirely amused by the absurdity of the fact that you’re a black dog, but you need to explain to me how you managed something that most adults can’t do.” She raised her eyebrows. “And at school, no less.” 

Sirius laughed at that, “honestly, Andromeda,” he began, “I don’t know.” He sat down on the couch. “Sort of just believed I could, so I did.” 

Ted laughed, “Sounds like you’re going to make a great Dad.”


	7. Fleeing the Sinking Ship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a weird amount of headcanon about Animagi. If this is of interest to anyone else, and you are as nerdy as I am, I'd be happy to include more of it. 
> 
> Comments make me irrationally happy. 
> 
> Thanks again to my SSP for the beta, and yes, I do know the difference between chips and crisps. 
> 
> Another thanks to my Banana for holding me to a standard.

Warmth. He needed warmth. It was a much less pressing need than hunger or thirst, but he would still need to sate it before he could rest. But where could he go? Instinct was telling him that this place was secure. It was dark, and surrounded, and there was very little chance of him being found here. But none of that mattered if he was cold. Survival meant sleep, and sleep wouldn’t come if he wasn’t safe, and being safe required warmth. Which meant leaving this spot in search of something else.

At least the focus on finding warmth was a good distraction from the fear. He could push the fear to the back of his mind if it was in favor of an immediate need. He was grateful for this. Because had he invited the fear in at full capacity it would have been paralyzing, and part of trusting instinct was knowing how to mediate the priorities of need.

The underground might work well for warmth. Now just the matter of finding the nearest station. He was in the area on the West Side that was always so bloody inconvenient, too far north of Acton Central and too far south of Harrow-on-the-Hill. Kilburn Park wasn’t so far if he could get there before the temperature dipped, and he was off running before he could have the errant thought that it was unseasonably cold for London in November.

He’d have guessed it took him about three hours to finally get down into the tube, and he felt his whole self calm as he felt the warmth rising out of the tunnels. This would be good for the evening, or at least until he could find a newspaper and get a better idea of what had happened. The real trick would be to somehow get to King’s Cross sometime in the next two months, and then he could catch the train back to Hogwarts from winter hols. But now that he was fed, and watered, and finally warm, he could come back to himself a bit and focus on finding information.

A copy of the Prophet would have been most useful, but it was unlikely to be found in this area, so he’d have to settle for the Muggle press. He had to be careful as he moved, making sure that each time he found a scrap of newsprint he didn’t stare at it too long for fear of bringing on any suspicion.

Because a rat reading the paper would have been an odd sight, indeed.

***

“I give up.” Peter slumped to the floor of the empty classroom, thoroughly defeated after the third time Sirius had to coach him back through a half transformation. He looked guiltily to the full moon rising in the window, and groaned as he put his head in his hands. “You blokes should just do it without me next month, I’ll hold down the fort back at the dorm, make sure that no one suspects anything.”

“Fuck,” Sirius said, slamming a fist into the wall.

Peter winced. Since they’d come back to school from winter hols, it had seemed that Sirius was taking everything just a little bit too hard these days, and this failure was no exception.

“Sirius--” James warned, ignoring the ire and going to sit next to Peter, “let’s talk it out mate, what’s going on in your dome-parts?” He gave Peter a gentle pat on the head, watching with a scowl as Sirius paced back and forth past the window.

“I just keep trying to give into the rat’s feelings, like you both say, but the rat is scared, and when the rat gets scared I get scared and then I can’t just give into it like that because nothing feels right, and then my body feels like it’s fighting myself, and now Sirius is angry with me.”

“I’m not angry, mate,” Sirius rubbed his face, “I just hate that he has to do this all alone.”

“We all do, you twat,” James narrowed his eyes at Sirius, “but you’re being a right arse to Petey, he’s so close, so get back over here and stop moping.”

“M’not bloody moping, James.”

“Well, whatever it is you’re doing, you bloody crankpot, get over here and help.”

Sirius let out a sigh and turned back towards them. “All right, Pettigrew, let’s play it this way,” he sat down in front of Peter and looked at him straight on. “You say the rat is scared, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why is the rat scared, what’s it scared of?”

“Oh, I don’t--” he thought for a moment, “Big things.”

Sirius snickered.

“Make one comment about the size of my head, Black, and I’ll pop you one.” James glared at Sirius, who shrugged.

“Perhaps I was thinking about making a comment about my knob, mate, don’t assume you know me.” He turned back to Peter, “What sort of big things?”

Peter rolled his eyes at the pair, “Like dark shadows, and things that can squash it, and things it can’t run from.”

Sirius made a humming noise, “And what else?”

“Being hungry, being cold, being lost.”

Sirius grinned. “Survival instincts. Ace. This is easy.” He nodded at James and they both stood up, flanking Peter and pulling him back up.

“Alright Petey, take a deep breath and tell that bloody little rodent that he’s safe. He’s got me, clearly the best big brother in the entire world, and he’s got Potter here, who’s like the weird step-child that everyone is embarrassed of, but we all like anyway, and he wouldn’t hurt a fly if it bit him on his oversized head--”

“Oi, you!” James smacked Sirius upside the head. All three boys laughed.

“Deep breath, Pettigrew, tell that little bugger that nothing’s gonna hurt him.” James grinned.

“Being small is safer in its own right, yeah? Think about it Petey, you can run and hide anywhere you like,” Sirius cocked his head, watching Peter carefully. “Just give in. You can be scared, but the safest way out is to be the rat.”

“Safest way out--” Peter repeated, and then closed his eyes and grimaced in concentration.

It was a good thing they’d thought to put a silencing charm on the classroom. Peter was sure that the hoots and hollers of his best friends would have been heard all the way in London.

***

Once he was sure he was alone in the darkness of the tube, Peter found a safe spot to transform back into himself. As he stood in the shadows, his mind still reaching towards the rat’s senses, he was doing all he could to keep panic from settling in. _Safest way out_. Information. Information was the safest way out, and now that he was human it was much easier to rifle through the trash for a newspaper. His previous efforts hadn’t been fruitful, and he needed more than he had in order to feel safe. And he _needed_ to feel safe.

The bin didn’t take much rifling through before he found a copy of The Daily Mail, and he slinked back to his corner to sit and open it. It wasn’t more than a few pages in that he was met with a still photo of Sirius Black, a picture that he knew Remus had taken a few years prior with an old Muggle camera. Sirius stood leaning against a wall, a cigarette between his fingers as he gave the camera a coy smirk. Peter shook his head and then read on:

_Sirius Black, originally believed to have kidnapped a yet_  
_unnamed child, has been cleared of all charges. Our source  
_ _indicates that the child is well, and with family._

_What family?_ It didn’t much matter. What mattered was that Harry Potter was still alive, and likely now hidden by all sorts of protections. Which wouldn’t help him. Unless the rumors were true, and Voldemort was truly gone.

__***_ _

He’d heard the footsteps on the walk moments before the knock sounded. Mother was hidden away in the back room, a few quick wards up on the door to prevent them from detecting her in there. He’d been expecting this call. They’d found Sirius first, who’d apparently put up quite the fight, leaving both he and his cousin bleeding. Then, it could only be assumed that they went for Remus, because he’d vanished without so much as a trace.

And now it was his turn. They’d all warned him that it would come, and he doubted that he’d ever forget the pitying look on Lily’s face as she apologized for trouble that her small family seemed to be causing. Of course it was _them_ the Dark Lord wanted, Lily and her extraordinary talent, particularly with a cauldron, and James, strong and fearless, and instantly brilliant at everything he’d ever tried. Voldemort’s want of them was seemingly relentless, having approached them himself on more than one occasion, and, now that they were hiding, sending his cronies to try and smoke them out.

Peter had let out a long breath as he opened the door to Bellatrix and Rabastan Lestrange.

“Wotcher, Pettigrew,” Rabastan smirked, “Fancy a visit?” If not for his mother tucked away in the back of the house, Peter would have transformed and run, but he knew first hand what a house destroyed by Death Eaters looked liked, and he didn’t want to imagine what would happen if Bellatrix Black Lestrange got her hands on someone who couldn’t offer her anything in exchange for being left alive.

“Are you going to let us in, dear?” Bellatrix crooned, raising an eyebrow and grinning wickedly. “We have much to talk about.”

***

If he was a betting bloke, he would have guessed he’d be in the underground tunnels for about a week, but for better or worse he wasn’t, and was desperate to escape the maze of the tube and get to the next station to find a paper and perhaps some chips that someone had dropped. He was exhausted from running through tunnel after tunnel ducking under moving trains, and could only hope that each step he took was in the direction of King’s Cross and not away.

The last wizarding paper he had come by was several days ago, and was dated before the Muggle one he’d found days earlier. The only useful information that it had was a confirmation that Voldemort was dead.

And he, who, standing next to Bellatrix, told The Dark Lord of the cottage in Godric’s Hollow, and was one of the last people to see the man (if he even was still a man) alive.

***

“They still haven’t come for you?” Sirius lit a cigarette, then lay back into the grass to stare at the full moon in the sky.

“No.” Lying had always come easy for Peter, fluently and simply, which had often left him explaining away some mischief or other to Professor McGonagall. “Not yet at least.”

“It’s been near a month.” Sirius let out a slow exhale, and Peter knew he was still keeping time with the lunar cycle, which was perhaps the reason he’d asked Peter here on the night of the full. “You think they would have come by now.” He sighed, “Unless they’d already found what they needed.”

Peter winced, grateful that the darkness hid the action from Sirius, because he had no intention of trying to convince Sirius of Remus’s innocence.

“Maybe they just don’t know who I am,” he shrugged, then started a bit when Sirius sat straight up.

“You think?”

“S’not like I was a prefect or a head boy or a quid star.” It was a truth he’d long ago come to terms with. “It was you blokes who got all of the attention.”

“They’d never suspect you, mate. It’d be such a great ruse.”

“What are you on about, Pads?”

“Switch with me. Be the Potter’s secret keeper.”

***

He found the next copy of the Prophet the day he got to King’s Cross, readying himself to live there for the month or so before he could sneak onto the Hogwarts train and get to the castle. It confirmed the suspicions that had been rooting around in his mind since that first day in the tunnels. He, Peter Pettigrew, was wanted as an accomplice in the murders of Lily and James Potter.


	8. Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I start to earn my explicit rating here. Somewhat graphic child abuse, PTSD, & panic attacks. Please take care of yourselves.
> 
> 66 subscribers!!! I'm stoked. You are all making my silly life right now.

“It’s tradition!” Ted laughed as Nymphadora threw another handful of confetti and streamers into the air over Harry’s head. 

“You say this, Edward,” Andromeda rolled her eyes, “but I’ve never heard of any such _tradition_.”

“That’s because you grew up with Uncle Cygnus and Auntie Druella as parents,” Sirius laughed, then blew into the noisemaker that had come out of his cracker. “I’m shite at Arithmancy, but that doesn’t seem like an equation that adds up to a good time.” He picked up one of the paper crowns and unfolded it, grinning wildly as he placed it atop his older cousin’s head.

“Hardly,” she scowled, reaching up to adjust the crown, but not taking it off, “but that has no bearing on not cleaning up after ourselves,” She looked down at Harry, who was spinning, arms out, under the rainfall of coloured paper that his companion had thrown about, and couldn’t help but smile, “And don’t swear in front of the children, Sirius.” 

“She says this every year,” Ted chuckled again and picked up a handful of the mess that had exploded out of the crackers, tossing it up in the air to add to the chaos, “Doesn’t like the Christmas crackers, doesn’t like the fuss, doesn’t like Dora to make a mess.” 

“But I love making a mess, Mummy!” Dora reached down to pick Harry up and spin him, and his shrill giggles filled the room. 

“I’m well aware of this, Nymphadora, it’s not news.” She walked over and stopped Dora from spinning, then kissed both her and Harry atop their heads. “Now.” She looked up at Sirius, “I do believe that Harry needs to be put to bed, and Nymphadora, you should ready your bath, I don’t think Father Christmas appreciates it when little girls stay up past their bedtimes. It may well throw off his every plan for the evening.”

“No!” Dora unceremoniously handed Harry to Sirius and ran down the hallway to the washroom. 

Sirius laughed, then lifted Harry above his head, “what do you say, little fawn? Shall we go read you a story?”

“Babbity!” Harry shouted back, and then Sirius put the dark-skinned child down and followed as he toddled off into their room. 

Once the children were asleep, Sirius joined Andromeda and Ted in the sitting room, where they had cleared aside the coffee table and were sitting on the floor in their pyjamas wrapping up gifts for the next morning. Sirius sat with them, grabbing one of his gifts to Harry from the pile and watching as Andromeda and Ted nimbly cut and folded the paper around each present. 

“You do it the Muggle way?” He quirked an eyebrow, watching to see if he could figure out how to do it. 

“Ted taught me how our first Christmas married,” said Andromeda proudly. “Gives us something to do with each other on the eve.” 

“Show me?” 

Ted took Sirius through the steps of measuring and cutting paper, then folding it neatly over the edges of each box and book and toy, and when Sirius finished wrapping his first gift on his own he stared down at it, immensely pleased with himself despite the sloppy corners and excessive amount of adhesive tape. 

“Thanks for that.” 

“No need to thank me, mate,” Ted grinned, “it’s lovely to have you here with us.” 

Sirius smiled, ‘Haven’t had a Christmas without James in a long time--” he sighed. Andromeda let out a breath and reached to put a hand on his shoulder. 

“You will make new memories and new traditions with Harry,” she said softly, “And he will know nothing but love and joy with you.” 

“Yeah, I hope,” Sirius ran a hand through his hair, “Hope he doesn’t grow up to think I’m the miserable twat that I am.” 

“You’ve been through hell, Sirius,” Andromeda’s tone was straightforward. “And come out the other side.” 

“Yeah mate,” Ted agreed, “You’ve done right well by that boy.”

“Thanks, guys.” Sirius smiled weakly. 

“Bed now.” Andromeda nodded, then used Sirius’s shoulder to push herself to a stand. “Go get some sleep, cousin.” 

***

 _One, two, three_. His feet carried him up the stairs of their own accord, easily winning the battle against his will. He heard each footstep as it resonated through him, a hollow echo that seemed to shake his entire being. _Four, five, six_. He could sense the wand pointed at his back, feel the hot breath on his neck as he was forced up, up, up. _Eleven, twelve, thirteen._

He swallowed hard as he was forced into the cupola that was off of the third floor study, barely taking in the shelves of books and invaluable antiquities as he walked by. He thought of James, and the lump in his throat grew as tears formed at the corners of his eyes. He’d never see James again. Or Remus. Or Peter. His friends would hear about his death on the wireless, read about it in the paper, and would think that he’d failed them.

“Suicide,” his father’s voice rang out from behind him, “The heir to the Black family fortune, a blood traitor so distressed by his failures that he resorted to suicide. Tsk tsk. His _poor_ family.”

“Father, please!” Sirius squeezed his eyes closed at the sound of his brother’s voice. “Please, just let him go!” 

Orion whirled around, his wand still fixed on Sirius, his Imperius curse holding strong, to see Regulus and Kreacher standing in the doorway. 

“Please!” Regulus pleaded again, “he’s your _son_.”

“Not anymore.” 

And then, he was falling, out of the window and down towards the dark London street below. 

Sirius woke with a jolt, panting as he sat straight up in the bed, sweat dripping from his forehead. With shaking hands he rubbed at his face and eyes as though he was trying to wipe the memory from them, but it didn’t do anything to stop his heart from pounding in his chest. His mind was frantic, the flight or fight instinct of the dog only heightening the state, and it was although he had never before known a feeling of calm in his life. He could conceive of the concept of calm, and there should be some way to get there, shouldn’t there? But nothing came to mind. 

But then he remembered that he had been here before, to this place where it seemed he had no control over what was spinning through his mind. He _had_ been here and there was a way back, a way to come down from it, if he could only remember how to do it. 

_Breathe with me._

The memory of the voice rang through him, and he took in a long pull of air and held it in his chest for a moment, closing his eyes and imagining it pressing in on his heart, fighting back against each rapid thump, slowing down the succession of beats until he could let the breath out again. 

_Breathe with me, Pads._

He took another breath in and then let it out again, finally opening his eyes and peering around the dark room. He let himself sink into the dog’s senses, finding comfort in the keen awareness of all that surrounded him. 

_Focus. What’s around you?_

He could hear Harry breathing in the crib across the room from him, he could see the silhouette of the tree outside the window.

_Two down, three to go._

He could feel the beads of sweat rolling down his face and taste them as they fell over his lips.

_And what do you smell?_

Clean bedclothes. Snow.

_Good. Are you with me, Pads?_

“I’m here,” Sirius whispered in the darkness. “I’m back.” 

***

“Padfoo! Padfoo!” Harry stood in his crib, watching as the black mutt groaned and rolled over. “Time for up!”

“Time for up,” Sirius shook his head and chuckled as he transformed back into himself. He rolled out of bed and grabbed Harry from the crib, laying the child on the floor for a moment so his nappy could be changed. 

No one else was awake yet, and Sirius took advantage of the quiet, feeding Harry breakfast, and then sitting across from him at the table and talking softly to the boy. 

“The first hols I spent with your dad was third year,” he smiled softly, “Effie and Flea got us quid tickets. It was perfect. Best Christmas I’ve ever had. I didn’t know they could be like that. Ours were always so dull growing up.” He sighed. “Fourth year I went home again, and it was awful, my dad-- doesn’t matter, I went back to your grandparents’ the next year and never spend hols apart from Jamie after that. They went right batty for your first Christmas, little fawn. I’ve never seen that many gifts under a tree before. But that was James, never did anything half-ars-- er, yeah. You get it, right Harry?” The toddler threw a piece of his muffin at Sirius’s face. “Yeah, you get it.” 

“Morning, you two,” Sirius turned to find Ted, in his robe, smiling at them from the entrance to the kitchen. “I’m gonna start a fry-up if you’re interested.” 

“Yeah, Ted, that’d be ace.” 

“Coffee or tea today?” 

“Coffee, black.” 

“Didn’t sleep again?” 

“Not well,” Sirius swallowed. “You mind watching the tiny human so I can pop out for a smoke?” 

Ted nodded, “Not at all.” 

The cold felt good against his face, like something was resetting, giving him the chance to start over again. The nightmares were less frequent than they had been right after Halloween, but it was still often enough that he dreaded going to sleep most nights, knowing what monsters were waiting for him as he slept. Knowing that in his dreams, his father was able to complete the task he’d failed to in life. Over and over and over again.

This was the first time, though, that Remus’s voice had rung through his head, talking him through the pounding in his ears and chest, and Sirius didn’t know whether the change should have settled him or put him more on edge. It had been almost three months, three moons, since Remus had left, and there was just so much that was left unresolved that he couldn’t find a way to process the fact that his mind still found reason and logic in the memories of that voice. 

Sirius shook his head, put out the cigarette on the sole of his boot, vanished it with a snap of his fingers and then went back inside. 

After a hearty breakfast, a few strong cups of coffee, and an explosive nappy change, Sirius, Andromeda, Ted, Nymphadora, and Harry gathered in the living room and surrounded themselves with gifts. 

After Ted and Andromeda had gone to sleep the night before, Sirius had snuck two brooms under the tree for both Harry and Dora, each appropriately sized and labeled as being from Father Christmas.

“Father Christmas did not inform me of this purchase,” Andromeda smirked at Sirius, “I will take that up with him later.” 

Sirius laughed and passed Dora another gift from himself, a book full of still portraits from one of the museums he and Remus had gone to on a date long ago. 

“To practice your faces,” he grinned as she opened it and scrunched her face, matching the one in the picture. 

***

Sirius was pleasantly inebriated by the end of the evening, having opened the bottle of American Muggle bourbon that Ted had gotten him and easily downed three glasses. The sun had long since set, the children were in bed, and Ted had fallen asleep laying in Andromeda’s lap as she sat on the sofa, smiling softly at the mess than had overtaken the sitting room. 

“Good Christmas, Sirius?” She looked somehow more at ease than Sirius had seen her in a very long while, although it was likely due to the several glasses of port she’d had throughout the evening. 

“Good Christmas, Andy,” he smiled back at her, “you?” 

“Good Christmas.” 

They both chuckled sleepily, the warmth of the fire and the alcohol giving the room a sense of collective cheer, and for a moment, Sirius allowed himself to sink into the calm, enjoy the fleeting feeling of reverie that allowed him to believe that maybe someday, things would feel normal. 

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep in the chair when there was a scratch and a clicking at the window. Andromeda and Ted had gone to bed, it seemed, and had given him no indication that they were expecting late mail, but there it was, a small and nondescript owl, shaking snowflakes off its tawny feathers. 

“Wotcher, little mate,” Sirius grabbed a biscuit from the table and handed it to the owl in exchange for the envelope. The bird cooed in thanks and then took off from the open window and into the night. Sirius laughed as he closed the window, but was cut off by a sharp intake of breath when he saw the neat, elongated, very familiar handwriting. He sank to the floor, staring at his name written out, then traced the loops of the “S” with his finger before turning the envelope in his hand and then opening it. 

_P,_

_I’ve been trying to find you. Please let me explain._

_PS. Happy Christmas._

_M ___


	9. Le Chein et Le Loup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my forever Remus, LT, for being the beta for this (and likely all Remus) chapter(s). 
> 
> I earn the other half of my explicit rating here, woo hoo. 
> 
> I know this chapter is short, but it's leading up to something. 
> 
> Also, it hurt me to write this. I don't like when the pups fight. 
> 
> Comments make my life.

In the months leading up to the Potters’ death, Remus and Sirius had all but stopped speaking to each other. They were still living together, most of the time, still making meals for two, and still fucking, because it could hardly be called love making at that point, but they’d not spoken more than a few curt words to each other in weeks. And that was at their best.

At their worst there were insults thrown, wounds reopened, and insecurities exposed. They both knew each other so well, knew every facet of each other’s being so intimately that they both knew exactly what buttons to press to push the other over the edge. 

On a particularly bad evening, Remus had arrived home later than usual to an annoyed Sirius and a cold dinner. 

“Sorry I’m late.” 

“You’re not though, are you?” 

“Late? Or sorry?” 

“Fucking hell, Moony, don’t be a twat.” 

“Just trying to answer your question, Pads.” Remus walked over and turned on the hob so he could reheat his food. 

Sirius turned around in the chair to face him, straddling the back of the seat before pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

“In the kitchen, Sirius?” 

“Yes, Remus, _in the kitchen_.” He took a long pull, “So, why were you late? Out for a drink with some of the more respectable members of my darling family?” 

“Fuck Sirius, stop bloody projecting.”

“Projecting? The fuck does that mean?

“You know what that means, you’ve made your choices. Plus they’re your fucking connections. _Your_ family. Why would I have anything to do with them?” 

“You’re gone all of the time, you’re a _dark creature_ , as you so frequently care to remind me. You’ve spent most of our lives convincing me not to trust you, mate, and now that I don’t, you’re up in bloody arms about it.” 

“Fuck you, I’m gone all of the time, what about _you?_ ”

Sirius took another pull of the cigarette, then ashed it into the tray on the table. “You’ve caught me, you ‘ave,” his tone had become low and dangerous, “Sirius _Black_ out consorting with the enemy, probably also out getting buggered by any bloke’ll take him.”

Remus closed his eyes and let out a long sigh.

“Figured that’s what you thought,” Sirius shook his head as he rose from the chair, tossing the butt of the cigarette into the sink. “I’m going for a ride, don’t wait up.” 

He grabbed his jacket and left. 

When he returned several hours later, the flat was quiet, and Sirius could smell that Remus had gone to sleep. He chain smoked a few more cigarettes out in the sitting room, then made his way into the kitchen so he could drink a big gulp of firewhiskey directly from the bottle. He stumbled down the hallway to the bedroom, and took no care to silence his entrance and movements about the room.

“You’ve already woken me up, no need to keep up the noise.” 

Sirius glared at the dark figure that spoke from the bed. “You act like I’ve got naught better to do than annoy you, Moony,” he snapped. 

“Is that not true?” It was a challenge. Sirius Black did not turn down challenges. 

He tugged off his shirt and growled at Remus, a low sound from the back of his throat that was more dog than human. Then he turned to the bed and crawled into it, climbing onto Remus as he worked to get his jeans unfastened so he could get his hand down his pants and stroke himself a few times before he lowered himself over Remus and leaned in to bite down on the flesh of his shoulder. 

Remus returned the growl and pushed Sirius over so he could switch their positions, then he held Sirius down with his forearm while he readied himself. He let up the pressure for a moment, straddling Sirius so he could turn him onto his stomach by way of a forceful grip on his shoulder. He reached for the lubricant they kept on the bedside table, and pulled his pyjama bottoms down far enough that he could effectively slick himself with it, then pulled down Sirius’s jeans, running his hands along the smooth lines of his buttocks before lining himself up and pressing in, taking no care to prep Sirius at all. 

Sirius hissed, grabbing tightly to the pillow under his head.

It was over within minutes, and after Sirius had quickly cleaned the mess from the bedsheets and his stomach, he pulled off the rest of his clothes and went down the hallway to shower, then transformed into the black mutt and trotted into the sitting room to curl up and sleep on the sofa. 

The days up until Remus’s departure were not dissimilar, it was as though this was their new normal, and as much as Sirius hated it, he still wasn’t prepared for Remus leaving. 

So when Remus got home one night at fuck-all in the morning, and without a word started levitating things into a small suitcase, Sirius found himself in a state of some emotion that seemed to reside in the intangible place between rage and pure shock. 

“So that’s it?” He pulled the cigarette from his lips and exhaled, “You’re just leaving, no reason why?” 

“You know why.” 

“Clearly I fucking don’t, Remus.” Sirius tossed the cigarette into his almost empty water glass and then stomped off to the kitchen to grab his firewhiskey. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t just run away from things like this.” He took a long swig of the bottle. 

“You’re one to talk, Sirius.”

Sirius slammed the bottle to the floor, making Remus jump back in surprise. 

“Fine.” Sirius took a step towards Remus, arms held out to his sides, “If you’re going to go, then just go.” He took another few steps forward, invading Remus’s space. “ _Get the fuck out_.”

They looked at each other for a long moment, amber eyes meeting grey, both filled with an endless sea of history and emotion. For those few seconds it felt as though the past months, and the stress of the war had suddenly dissipated, and with that fog cleared, Sirius could see past the guilt and resentment, the fear and suspicion, to the foundation of what they’d built together. The stray pups of the litter, broken and outcast, each finding solace in the balance that they brought to each other. Sirius swallowed, and opened his mouth to say something, but the movement seemed to break them from their trance, because Remus just shook his head and turned from Sirius, leaving without a further word. 

In the few weeks that followed, Sirius spiraled. Each passing day brought him closer to the deep precipice that was inside of him, every minute of self-hatred dragging him nearer to the hole from which he knew he’d not been able to return. In the past, there had always been someone to catch him before he fell too far, but Remus was gone, James and Lily were in hiding, and Peter just didn’t seem to understand the depth of Sirius’s self-destructive nature. 

He replaced old routine with new: sleeping long into the afternoon, opening a bottle almost the moment he woke up, and spending his nights in Muggle pubs, picking fights with anyone he thought might make a good match. The bruising on his knuckles had become something of a comfort for Sirius, the throbbing pain and flaking scabs the only thing that served as a reminder that he was still alive, although he found that in his darkest moments, he’d rather not be. 

The only time he broke from the routine was on the eve of the full moon, when he and Peter would lay under a tree and get pissed. Peter would leave eventually, but Sirius stayed, watching the moon until it had set behind the trees, until he knew that somewhere out beyond his reach, Remus was human again. 

And then he’d go home. To the flat that felt as strange to him as spending the night of the full moon as a human. To an empty bed that still held the fading scent of the person who had slept next to him every night for the past several years. And it would start all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sirius is a bottom, fight me.


	10. Remus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the long chapter to follow the short one. With a first kiss flashback. Because we all need some fluff. 
> 
> Kudos are fun. Comments are better. Pizza is best. 
> 
> These poor boys.

**February 1977**

“Circe’s rock hard frozen tit, mates,” Sirius flopped down, face first, onto his four poster. 

“Should we even ask?” Peter raised an eyebrow as he pulled his comb through his hair. 

James rolled his eyes, “He’s just cheesed that McKinnon doesn’t want to lick his knob anymore.” 

“Oi!” Sirius popped his head up, “That’s not it!” 

“Oh yeah?” James challenged, “Then what is it?” 

Sirius groaned. “You don’t even live here anymore.”

James just laughed, “Like any of you blokes could function without me around.” 

Remus looked up from his book and raised an eyebrow. Peter snorted a laugh.

“Moony takes issue with that, Prongs.”

“I said nothing.” Remus smirked. 

“Didn’t have to, Moons,” James retorted, “You’ve been silently judging all of us since our first day in this castle.” 

“You’ve given me ample fodder to do so, and you just suggested that I am unable to take care of myself without you, to which point I’d like to remind us all of just last week when Prongs thought it necessary to run about the quid pitch with no clothes on.” 

“I was celebrating!” 

“You were posturing at best.” Remus offered. 

“Pads dared me, I couldn’t turn that down!”

“And it turns out that your knob _can_ get smaller than it already is,” Sirius laughed despite himself, then groaned again and buried his face in his pillow. 

“Just fucking wank it, Padfoot.” James threw a pillow across the room at Sirius. 

“S’not the bloody point,” came the grumbled response. “It’s Valentine’s Day, and while everyone else in the castle is off getting snogged, I’m left alone with naught but my hand.” 

“Rumor has it in the girl’s dorm that your hand is reasonably talented, mate.” 

“Well, fuck, yeah it is, but then why doesn’t Marlene want to celebrate my aptitude?” 

Peter shrugged, “Mary says Marlene fancies fanny.” 

Sirius shot up, “Mary did not say the word fanny, did she?” 

“No,” Peter admitted, “but the point stands.” 

“Oi, Pettigrew, you went and got me all excited, you minx.” 

“Because I told you that my girlfriend used a foul word?” 

“Yeah, mate,” Sirius said, as if this were the most obvious thing in the entire world, “Thought that if sweet little McDonald could use a word like fanny then that likely meant that you were in for a treat when you finally breached the great divide that is her knickers. It’s the ones that are square on the outside that end up being the most fun once they’re starkers.” 

“Can attest to that.” James added with a nod and a finger in the air. 

“No you bloody can’t,” Sirius laughed, “Evans is like Moony. She only gives off the _appearance_ of being a kind, decent, and responsible human being.” 

Remus furrowed his brow, “I’m not sure I approve of where this is headed, Padfoot. Particularly as I’m often the only one of us with any sense to speak of.” 

“Your sensibility is a carefully cultivated lie that you use to hide the fact that you’re actually the brains of our little operation,” he shrugged, “And I’ve a theory that Evans could make mischief with the best of us.” 

James grinned. “She’s just bloody perfect and I want to marry her and make a bunch of beautiful deep-skinned babies with red hair and green eyes.” 

“Lily’s looks will be the only thing saving your spawn from a life in which they’ll be doomed to resemble an overcooked noodle with a large head,” Sirius replied matter of factly. 

James punched him unceremoniously in the arm. 

“Wow, mate,” Sirius smirked dangerously and raised an eyebrow, “Punch the abused kid why don’t you?” At that he pounced on James, clinging to his back and ruffling his hair. 

“Mother fucker, Black!” James flailed and tossed Sirius onto whichever bed was closest (it was Peter’s), “it took me forever to get it to sit right!”

“And now Evans isn’t going to put out and you’ll be just as lonely as I am. My plan is working.” Sirius grinned. 

James snorted and shook his head. “On that note, I’m out.” He walked back over to Sirius and planted a wet kiss on his forehead. Sirius smiled and gave James a smack on the arse as he walked towards the door. 

“Yeah, me too, gents,” Peter saluted and followed James out to the common room. 

Sirius sighed and slid off of Peter’s bed, crossing the room and settling down next to Remus. Remus shook his head at Sirius, but closed the book and put it on the bedside table. 

“Wotcher.” Sirius leaned into Remus.

“Can I help you, Padfoot?” 

“I’m unloveable, aren’t I?” Sirius cocked his head. 

“And hideously ugly,” Remus added with a smirk. 

“Well fuck, mate, you sure know how to make a bloke feel better.” 

“You asked a stupid question, Sirius, so you got a stupid answer.”

“So you don’t think I’m unlovable and hideous?” 

“I feel like this is a trap.” 

“Why in the world would I try to trap you, Moony?” He turned to face Remus.

Remus just shook his head, “Not playing this game, Pads.”

“So that’s it, you think I’m unsnoggable, that Marlene is better off with a bird than with someone as awful as me?” Sirius’s tone had grown whiny and exaggerated.

“That’s not what I--”

“And you probably think I’m daft as a doorknob, and shite at Quidditch, and--”

“Sirius--”

“And you think that I deserve to die alone and unloved, the tarnished heir---”

And then he was cut off. By Remus kissing him. It was a tentative kiss, gentle and unexpectant, but surprisingly not hesitant at all. It took a moment for Sirius to even realize what was happening, and a moment longer for him to realize just how welcome Remus’s lips were on his own. He’d kissed boys before, James mostly, for shites and giggles, but this wasn’t just a boy, this was Remus. And Remus was kissing him.

“Care to explain that?” Sirius smirked as he pulled back from the kiss. 

Remus blushed, “Had to get you to shut up.” 

“That so?” 

“You’re quite irritating sometimes.” Remus shrugged one shoulder.

“I’m not sure what to make of that.” Sirius’s expression had grown, well, serious, and he reached forward to take Remus’s hand in his own. “I sort of feel like I ought to irritate you a bit more--”

Remus laughed, “Because I’m an easy mark? Or because you want me to shut you up again?” 

Sirius responded by closing the distance between them once more.

***

He was on his third cigarette in the past ten minutes, at this point not even bothering with a lighter or his wand and instead having lit this one off the last. Upon each exhale, Sirius allowed himself to get lost in the tendrils of smoke that escaped his mouth, as if the rising pires would, as they climbed upward, mixing with the breath that was ever visible in the cold air, deliver something unto him that would be prophetic or, at the very least, decisive. There was a part of him that wanted to just say ‘fuck it,’ and go, especially considering that Remus was late (but when wasn’t he?), and the fact that everything instinctual was telling Sirius that his excursion would not be worth the time spent away from Harry, who seemed to grow anxious any time he wasn’t in the room. Andromeda assured him that this was normal for toddlers, but Sirius didn’t like thinking about Harry wandering about the house looking for “Pa-foo.” 

Sirius shifted against the exterior wall of the Shrieking Shack, pulling his jacket tighter around himself and digging the toe of one boot into the snow. He raised his eyebrows and lifted his head just a bit when he heard the crunching of feet through snow approaching, and there he was.

It wasn’t lost on Sirius that the past few months apart were the longest that he and Remus had gone without seeing each other since they were 11 years old, and so he found himself able to reconcile the fact that the man in front of him felt almost like a stranger approaching. Sirius let out a breathy laugh at the long gold locks and the facial hair that, for what might be the first time ever, gave him the appearance of being the better kempt of the two. 

“You cut your hair.” Apparently the difference was not lost on Remus either. 

Sirius flicked the butt of his cigarette into the snow, “Thought I’d have to lay low for a while.” 

“It looks good.” 

“Thanks,” Sirius finally made eye contact with Remus. “Yours looks like right shit.” 

Remus laughed. 

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Why am I here, Remus?” 

“Wasting no time.” 

“I have someone to go home to,” Sirius watched for Remus’s reaction to this statement. It wasn’t untrue, but Sirius was intentional in his wording, wanting to gauge the reaction. He wasn’t entirely disappointed. 

Remus narrowed and then widened his eyes, then smiled. “How is he?” His voice was almost reverent. 

“Big,” it was the first time Sirius had smiled that evening. “And bloody bright. He’ll be calling me out on my shite for the rest of my life.” 

“I’d expect no less of James and Lily’s son.” Remus’s voice fell and Sirius’s smile faded. 

“You didn’t answer my question.” Sirius gave Remus a pointed look. 

“The answer is complicated.” 

“Try me.” 

Remus sighed. “I was actually hoping to buy you a pint-- unless you’ve given up drinking--”

“Fancy yourself a comedian, do you?” 

Remus shrugged one shoulder. 

“Fuck, fine,” Sirius shook his head and pushed off of the side of the shack. 

Once they were settled in a quiet corner of the Hog’s Head, with drinks in front of them, Sirius stared blankly across the table. There was a part of him that wanted this to be simple, a part of him that wanted to reach over and grab the front of Remus’s shirt to pull him up for a kiss. To whisk him away to the loo, or back to the Shrieking Shack, or heck, even in one of the secret passageways that led back to the castle, and avoid whatever this conversation was going to be with one final fuck before they parted ways. But there was another part of him that told Sirius that he needed to hear this. That knowing was better than not and that having Moony in his life would maybe, one day, again make it easier. 

“I’m so sorry, Sirius.” 

“I don’t want your apology. I want your explanation.” 

Remus nodded. “You were on a mission,” he began, “I don’t know what, but it was after the duel.” 

Sirius pursed his lips at the thought of the fight with his cousin. 

“You had all thought that they’d come to find me. But they didn’t.” Remus sighed, “I found them.” 

“The fuck you on about?” 

“I knew that I was next. I was the logical choice, after you. So I got ahead of them. For months, I had been in communications with one of the werewolf packs You-Know-Who had been pursuing, that’s where I was all those nights, Moody never would have let me tell you--” he shook his head and continued, “So instead of trying to convince them to join me, I joined with them, and even in just a few weeks was able to learn enough to intercept several communications.”

Remus paused and took a long sip of his drink. 

“I think the Death Eaters had realized that they were going to be hard pressed to convince any of us to give up the Potters. So I’d been expecting them to show up, try and get information out of me, and leave with a fight. Seemed simple enough in theory, Bellatrix is powerful, but not infallible, you proved that, and I’ve got some canidae tricks up my sleeve when it comes to combat. Plus the fact that I would have given my life without hesitation to keep James and Lily safe.”

Sirius looked down into his drink, his face drawn. There was a long moment of silence before he wrapped his hand around the glass and downed the entire thing. Remus watched him for a moment before continuing. 

“They had changed tactics. They weren’t trying to use me to get to the Potters. They were trying to use me to get to you.”

Sirius looked up, cocking his head slightly in a way that made Remus unable to hold back a small smile. 

“Bellatrix was not happy to have been bested by you. From what I could glean it seemed like they wanted to go after you and instead of using you to lead them to James, they were going to try and smoke James out by torturing you.” Remus frowned as Sirius made a noise of pain or regret or some other deep-seated emotion that likely didn’t have a proper identifier. “They knew that I had been consorting with the wolves, and somehow, I can only assume Peter had a hand in this, they knew that they could use me as bait to draw you in.” He took in a breath and then spoke softly on the exhale, “So I ran.” 

The hardness of Sirius’s expression had faded as he searched for words that didn’t come. 

“I wasn’t going to let them use me to hurt you, and I certainly wasn’t going to let them use you to hurt James. So I let you believe I was the bad guy, all while accusing you of being such, because I knew that if I left when you were that angry with me, then you wouldn’t come after me, and it seemed like that was the best way to keep everyone safe.” 

Remus met Sirius’s gaze and held it for a long while, letting the tale sink in now that it was all out in the open. 

“You let me believe--” 

“I did what I thought was best for everyone. I hate knowing that I hurt you.”

Sirius closed his eyes for a long moment before speaking again.

“I should get back to Harry.”


	11. Hogwarts Castle, Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So so so sorry this one took so long. It's not the longest chapter ever, and not the greatest chapter ever, but life got hectic, so yeah. 
> 
> I did make sure to include some of that fun Animagi headcanon that I have. Let me know what you think!

The castle smelled the same. Cold stone and musky fabric not quite disguised by the ambient scent of burning ash and potion botanicals. It had only been a few years since they’d left, but after everything that had happened it felt longer, like Hogwarts was some distant memory from a past life, from a time unencumbered by fear and war and mistrust and the cold sting of hatred that filled the air outside of these walls. Somehow Peter had imagined it would have changed, but here it was, still standing proud. 

Getting onto the train at platform 9 ¾ had been simple, and the train ride was as easy as it had ever been, maybe even more so with the occasional piece of food or sweet that dropped to the floor. The difficult part had come in getting from Hogsmeade to the castle that loomed along the skyline. 

He immediately regretted not just slipping into the bag of an unknowing student, and hitching a ride to the castle, but it didn’t do well to dwell on a decision that wasn’t going to help him now, and he was hungry, besides, and the back alleys in Hogsmeade were rich with good food.

He debated his options as he nibbled on some crumbs just out back of the Hog’s Head. He could take one of the secret passageways, but both of the ones that led into the castle would require he transform to reach them, and that was simply not an option right now. That left walking, which would take the better part of two days in this form, and that didn’t account for any number of bizarre magical creatures that Hagrid might be keeping on the outskirts of the Hogwarts property. 

A pang of an emotion that felt something like guilt hit him as he let himself acknowledge the fastest way back to the castle that would allow him the necessity of staying hidden, and with one final bite of a small piece of meat, the rat turned from the alley to head down to the Shrieking Shack. 

***

“Fuck Lupin, is it like this for you?” 

“What are you on about?” 

“The smell, I smell _everything_.” Sirius looked around the Shrieking Shack and inhaled.

“At least that’s bloody useful,” James said rubbing his eye with his fist. “Better trick than wanting to grind your head on everything in sight.” With that, he proceeded to make his way over to one of the wood support beams and started rubbing his forehead against it, “Why does this feel so good?” 

“Blokes, I’m worried we’re going to get caught. We’re only fourth years, if we get chucked out it’s not like we’ll have actually learned anything.” Peter was sitting, curled into a ball in the corner of the room, “There’s just a lot of noises out there, lots and lots of noises.” 

“Peter, it’s fine,” Remus said calmly, “Map shows no one for at least 200 meters, and I’m quite content to sit here and watch you idiots deal with this rubbish.”

James rolled his eyes at Remus, and then tilted his head from side to side, “You can sort of shift back and forth if you think about it hard enough.” 

“Elaborate, please, James,” Remus opened his notebook and readied his quill. 

“Like I can be more James or more stag depending on how I think about it.” He rubbed the back of his hand against his forehead. “Try it.” 

“Ha!” Sirius let out a laugh that was more like a bark as he furrowed his brow and then started chuckling and wiggling slightly. 

Remus raised an eyebrow at Sirius. 

“Oh!” Peter tried it too, and suddenly found that he could still hear and smell with the rat’s senses, but that his mind was more his own. 

“Yeah see, so you can be you but still feel like the animal-- oi, you bloody wanker, Black, stop!” 

Peter chuckled. While he and James were apparently trying to find a balance between the minds of the human and animal, it seemed that Sirius had given in entirely. He was currently sidled up to James, breathing quickly and bouncing from toe to toe. “Let’s go do something, Potter.” The cadence of his voice was quick and excited, “Go run around outside, or swimming in the lake, or sniffing all of the different mushrooms growing ‘round here, or roll around in the mud, or chasing something.” He paused, then looked over at Peter, “Chase a rat!” He ran over to where Peter was still sitting in the corner and crouched down next to him, “Follow follow follow chase go go go,” he said in a singsong voice, “big ears, and furry arse, and wormy tail, wormy wormy tail, worm tail.” Sirius snorted a laugh, “You’ll have a worm tail, Petey!” 

Sirius laughed again, then rolled backwards onto his back in a fit of giggles. “Wormtail,” he laughed once more and then sat up and looked Peter in the eye, his face drawn and intense “S’your new nickname, mate. Wormtail.” 

“That’s a stupid nickname,” James went to go sit near Peter and rubbed his head against the other boy’s shoulder. “That’s like calling you Wetnose, or Fluffbelly, or Padfoot.” Sirius snorted again, “Wormtail and Padfoot.” 

All four boys laughed. “It seems unjust that two of us should have absurd nicknames and not the rest,” Remus went over to complete the circle on the floor. 

“James could be Stickantler?” Peter suggested. 

“No,” Sirius grinned, “Bambi.” They had watched the film at Remus’s parents’ house last summer, and ever since James’s form had revealed itself to him, Sirius hadn’t been able to let the Bambi joke go. The other three had just the day before sworn to Sirius that they were going to ignore the joke from then on. 

“Or Stonehorn!”

“Bambi.”

“What about Prongs?” Remus suggested with a shrug.

“No, Bambi.” 

“Yes!” James nodded enthusiastically. “Prongs!” 

“I still think Bambi would be better,” Sirius sat up and punched James in the arm playfully. 

“Just you left Remus,” James said. 

“Well, Sirius named Peter, you named Sirius, James, I named you, so I only think it fair that Peter pick mine.” 

Peter smiled at Remus. 

“Moony.” 

***  
Once he got to the castle, he could think of no other place to go than up to the Gryffindor Common Room, and snuck in on the heels of a couple that seemed _very_ distracted by each other. The room was busy and bustling, and Peter was able to duck under a sofa, it was the one that Sirius always seemed to melt into after Quidditch games, and listen to the gossip that was spreading through the room. 

“Me Dad told me for certain, You-Know-Who is dead.” 

“I don’t buy it, mate, bloke as evil as that doesn’t just get killed by a baby.”

“But they say that he’s special--”

“Who’s _they_?” 

“Dunno.” 

“But now no one knows where the kid is.” 

“No, the Prophet’s been talking about how he’s hidden away. Safe keeping and all that rubbish.” 

“Wonder where the traitor went off to--”

“Yeah, Pettigrew, was it?”

“Think so. Bastard.” 

“Did you read that he was friends with the kid’s parents?” 

“Saw that, yeah. Mum really liked the Potters. She was a mess when they were killed. Especially with it happening right after my uncles--” 

“Yeah, right war heroes they were. Yer uncles and the Potters.” 

“Yeah.” 

The conversation died down after that, and Peter took the time to make his way towards the staircase to one of the dorms, figuring he could nick some food and maybe a flannel to turn into a nest for himself. He could have kicked himself for not remembering that the stairs were just a bit tall for him in this form, but just as he was about to give up the climb and head back down to the kitchens, one of the boys spotted him and cocked his head.

“Oi, little mongrel,” the lad smiled, walking over and kneeling in front of the rat. “What’ve you gotten yerself into?” He chuckled, then pushed the ginger fringe out of his eyes and placed his hand down on the ground next to Peter. The rat knew this routine, liked it even, and had spent many an hour riding about in Sirius or James’s pockets, just because they all thought it was a bloody good laugh. So when the hand was right there next to him, Peter figured he had nothing to lose by crawling into it. 

“Reckon’ you need a home, mate, yeah?” 

Peter couldn’t argue. 

It didn’t take him long to figure out who it was he’d been snatched up by. The hair should have been the first give away, really. Bill was good to him for the rest of the school year, and upon returning to his new home in the Burrow come June, Peter had to admit that life as a pet, in a wizarding family, was a vast improvement on scrounging for scraps in the Underground. Now all he had to do was bide his time.


	12. Making Peace (and pieces)

The silver phoenix had come and gone almost before Sirius had time to process what had happened; He stood, frozen, disbelieving, unable to process the information he’d just been given with any semblance of clarity. It wasn’t until he heard Harry’s cries that he was jolted from his trance. 

“Oi, lad, what’d you do to yourself!” Sirius laughed as he reached to pick up the toddler, who had tripped over a stone and fallen onto the grass. Holding Harry's hand in his own, he pressed a kiss to the small scrape on it and then blew a raspberry on the child’s stomach. “Let’s get you washed up and see if we can’t find a sweetie to make this better.” 

“I want a chok-la fog!” Harry demanded. 

“As long as I get to keep the card, mate. You know how much I like them.” 

“Kay!” 

When they crossed the threshold of the house, Sirius brought Harry into the kitchen and gave him the small geometric box. The child ripped through it and unceremoniously handed Sirius the care (Morgana, again), and then shoved the entire frog into his tiny mouth before the thing could even think about getting away. Sirius laughed and shook his head. 

“Now where is your Auntie Andy, lad? We have to tell her that the big D-man is coming by.” 

A chocolate covered face looked up at him for a moment and then took off running down the corridor. “Anny Anny!” he cried out, “Anny Anny!” 

Sirius followed and then watched as Harry ran into Andromeda’s arms as she came out of her room. “Why, hello, Master Potter,” she kissed him on the forehead as she shifted her hold so that the child was resting on her hip. “And what are you coming to tell me in such a hurry?” 

“I fell down. And den I eated chok-la fog.”

Andromeda laughed and then looked up at Sirius. “That sounds about right.” 

Sirius mirrored the smile for a moment, then felt it fade as he remembered why he’d needed to come speak to his cousin. “Dumbledore is coming by,” he said softly, “Might need you to watch this little rascal for a tick, yeah?” 

“Everything okay?” 

“Yes? No? I don’t bloody know anymore.” Sirius sighed, “Walburga’s dead.” 

Andromeda’s mouth formed a “o” shape, but no sound came out. 

“Yeah, and apparently there’s quite a bit of parchment that comes with her dying. The Ministry got in touch with Dumbledore to get to me, and he’s going to bring it all by so that we can keep the wards intact.” 

“Alright, yes, of course I’ll watch Harry.” She gave the boy a kiss on the cheek and then put him down so he could run into his room. “Are you okay, Sirius?” 

“I wish I was sad that she’s dead, but I’m not,” his reply was matter-of-fact, “I’ve lost family that meant so much more to me than my own, it’s hard to have any real emotion about this.”

“I think that’s understandable, I suppose I’ll feel the same when Cygnus and Druella finally depart this world.” She offered a small smile. “But you look like there’s something more on your mind, Sirius.” 

He nodded. “I’m the only living heir.” His mind was met with a sudden image of his brother, and he tried as much as possible to ignore the tug on his heartstrings. 

“Grimmauld Place is mine.” 

***

It hadn’t changed. 

The ancient house still stood, its ominous expanse casting deep shadows over the London block. For a long time, Sirius just stared at it, leaning up against his bike and scanning each brick in turn, each eave and shutter, from the cobbled walk all the way up to the third story window where he had almost met his demise. The sharp edges of the stone building seemed to be mocking him, daring him to come closer lest they rip open wounds that had only barely begun to heal. Living in that house had been the closest Sirius had ever come to death, and yet here he was, the only one left standing. 

He bit his lip and then lit a cigarette, steeling himself against the barrage of hatred and anger that threatened to boil over inside of him. Each shaky inhale of the rich smoke somehow managed to tamp down the onslaught, a good thing too, Sirius thought, as the depth of his ire towards the building in front of him made him liable to burn the place down rather than claim it as his own. 

His own. Grimmauld Place. The thought felt foreign to him. Why should he want to return to the hell that was his childhood. To a family tree that had his picture burned off of it, to the hidden cracks in the walls from where his father had thrown him into them. This home held nothing for him. It was naught but a proud facade that hid away from the world a darkness that he wanted no part of. 

“Are you just going to stand out front all day, Pads?” Remus’s voice pulled him from the nightmarish reveries spinning through his head. “Or are we going to get this over with?” 

Sirius nodded and then put the cigarette out on the bottom of his boot. “Yeah, mate,” he shook his head at himself and crossed the street. 

The thought of stepping into his childhood home alone had been too much for him. When he’d left home the summer before sixth year, Sirius was certain that he would never step foot into this wretched place again, that his connection to his parents and brother was forever severed, that the chapter of his life in which he was trapped by the confines of those walls and all they stood for was written and closed. And yet, here he was. 

But he wasn’t alone. After his meeting with Dumbledore and a trip to the Estates Division of the Ministry had proven that he was in fact the true owner of the house, and that he had no choice but to ensure that his eldest cousin couldn’t lay claim to it, he had, after half a pack of cigarettes and far too much of the Muggle bourbon that Ted kept around, written a vague owl to Remus.

_M, Need your help if you don’t mind. - P_

He and Remus had seen each other a few times since their reunion, mostly because now that Sirius knew where Remus was, he’d refused to let him go through a full moon alone. It was different than when they’d had the whole pack, but the canines always seems to understand each other a bit more than the others, and Dumbledore still let Remus use the Shrieking Shack for the time being, so in some ways their routine each month was the only semblance of normalcy in either of their lives. 

Of course that meant telling Andromeda why she had to babysit once a month, and why Sirius had become an Animagus to begin with, but the shock and awe was worth it for a few hours a month of running about the Hogwarts grounds and playing. 

But now Remus was beside him, and despite the fact that it was what he’d wanted, Sirius wasn’t sure what that meant. In some ways, the man who was once the love of his life felt like a stranger now, but in others, Remus still felt like a refuge, the safest place he had that wasn’t the tiny bedroom he shared with Harry. 

Sirius was almost disappointed when he opened the front door of the house and nothing happened. The front corridor was empty, silent, a dark chasm from which he had half expected the ghosts of every one of his ancestors to explode out of and attack him. But the house let him in with no protest, and he started down the hall with Remus behind him. 

“Shite Pads, this place is unreal.”

Sirius let out a snort of laughter. “You have no idea how badly I want to burn it to the ground.” He touched his hand to the wall, then ran his fingers along the familiar relief of it as he made his way further inside. A moment later, both men jumped when a voice carried through the house:

“TRAITOR!” Sirius lit his wand and found himself face to face with a large portrait of his mother. 

“Oh, shut up you fucking cunt,” he raised an eyebrow and looked at her. 

“FILTHY BLOOD TRAITOR! HOW DARE YOU BESMIRCH THIS HOUSE WITH YOUR PRESENCE. THIS HOUSE WHERE YOU DARED DEFY EVERYTHING THAT IS PURE AND SACRED.”

“Want to hear pure and sacred?” Sirius said cooly, “See this bloke here,” he used his thumb to point back at Remus. “Used to bugger me on the reg. Oh, and he’s a bloody werewolf.” 

“FILTH!!! DISGUSTING HALFBREED FILTH!”

Sirius cast a silencing charm at the portrait and then cocked his head, bemused as he watched the woman continue to rant and rave silently. 

“Remus Lupin,” he gestured toward the painting, “Meet my Mum.” 

“She’s a peach.” 

Sirius chuckled. 

***

They spent the next hours walking each long corridor in turn, Sirius pointing out this artifact or that portrait, quietly processing what it meant to be back in these hallways. Sirius jolted to a stop when they reached a set of large wooden double doors with ornate moulding. “I-- uh, we can skip this one.” He turned back and looked at Remus. 

“What is it?” 

“Orion’s study.” 

“Sirius,” Remus put a tentative hand on Sirius’s bicep. “He’s gone. They’re all gone. It’s just us.” 

Sirius swallowed, “Lots of bad memories in here, you know?” 

“Then let’s make new ones.” 

The look on Remus’s face was coy and playful and it took a fair amount of willpower for Sirius to remember that they were no longer together, that he couldn’t just pull Remus to him and snog the mischievous grin off of him. He instead returned the smile hesitantly, and let Remus open the door to the study.

It was as though Orion had never left. Each book and statue and magical item was still exactly where it used to be, had Remus not been there, it would have been akin to going back in time. Sirius bit his lip and moved towards one of the bookshelves, reaching out to touch an almost imperceptible dent in the repaired bit of wood. 

“So what’s this?” Remus raised an eyebrow and picked up an antique looking vase. 

“Fucked if I know,” Sirius said, then pointed to the dent in the bookcase, “I wasn’t allowed to touch anything in here.” 

“Is it valuable?” 

“Probably.” 

“Do you like it?” 

“No.” Sirius narrowed his eyes, “the fuck you getting at, Lupin?” 

Remus grinned and chucked the vase across the room and into the far wall. It shattered into a million pieces, the sound echoing through the expanse of the room. 

Sirius flinched at the sound, eyes wide with something like fear spread across his face. He met Remus’s gaze, and his friend’s grin widened, “He’s not here, Pads. He’s dead, they’re all dead, they can’t hurt you anymore.” 

Sirius let the words process for a moment and then reached for a statuette of some famous wizards that was likely over a century old. He bounced the weight of it in his hand for a moment and then looked back at Remus and then smashed it to the ground in front of him. 

Remus looked over with a knowing expression on his face, “How’d that feel?” 

Sirius just laughed and reached for the next valuable antiquity. 

For the better part of an hour, Remus and Sirius destroyed Orion’s study, even going so far as to enchant several of the magical relics to fight each other in a battle royale. And for the first time since Sirius could remember, his childhood home was filled with laughter. 

***

When the dust had settled, the boys sat in a corner of the study, sharing a cigarette and passing between them a bottle of booze that was likely worth more than some of the antiquities they’d ruined. 

“It’d be a nice room if you opened the curtains and let some light in,” Remus took a sip and handed the bottle back to Sirius. “Maybe charm some twinkly lights like in the Great Hall-- could turn it into a great playroom for Harry.” 

Sirius started a bit, then looked at him, “For Harry?” 

“Yeah, mate,” Remus shrugged, “Was that not the plan, take over your family home so you and Harry could live here?” 

“No.” Sirius shook his head, “Hadn’t even crossed my mind.” He looked out at the study and tried to imagine what it would be like filled with toys: a train, a miniature Quidditch pitch, all   
manner of stuffed animals, both magic and muggle. He let out a short breath. “Do’ya think I should? Move Harry here? Make this our home?”

“Do you want to stay with your cousin forever?”

“I mean we’ve got it good there, but I suppose she’ll be wanting her life back at some point. She’s a patient one, Andy, can’t imagine having a little one around again was in her plans.” He took a pull of the cigarette. “Could I--? Would you--?”

“What?” 

“Would you mind helping? Making it a home?”

“Of course not. Anything you need.”


	13. Reclamation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Umm-- So I definitely nicked some dialogue from Jo for this chapter. No need to reinvent the wheel. And that TERF don't own this shit anymore. It belongs to the fandom now.

They started with the bedrooms on the top floor. Sirius half expected his room to have been destroyed in the wake of his departure, but when he opened the door for the first time in years, it was completely untouched. His teenage self was perfectly preserved amongst the explosion of red and gold that encompassed the room, everything from the banners on the wall to the pillowcase an affront to his Slytherin heritage. Muggle posters adorned the spots in between the Gryffindor paraphernalia: Freddie Mercury and Joe Strummer complemented by a fair number of scantily clad women leaning provocatively over motorbikes. 

Remus couldn’t help but laugh. “You never had any issue making a statement, did you?” 

Sirius just shrugged, “Always liked her,” he gestured towards one of the women, “Good baps.” When he saw Remus’s raised eyebrow he smirked, “I used to pull for birds before you got your tosser hands on me, if you recall. You’ve got a lot going for you, Lupin, but no baps.” 

“I can’t deny that, I suppose.” 

They worked in silence for a time, sorting through each drawer and closet and chest in turn, making piles of things to keep, things to sell, and things to chuck in the rubbish bin. Sirius, as much as he tried to compartmentalize it all, to keep his emotional distance from what this house meant to him, was finding it difficult not to associate any and every item with a memory, and thus determining the value of things seemed, at a point, solely related to whether they made him smile or frown. 

As they began to tackle his closet, Sirius let out a long breath when he pulled out a leather bound book. He looked at Remus with wordless sadness spread across his face and then moved back to sit on the floor against his bed, gesturing for Remus to do the same. 

By the time they had finished flipping through the photo album, there were tears silently falling down both of their faces. Sirius closed the book and then immediately started going through it again, pausing this time to remember the feeling of James’s weight colliding into him after a particularly tough Quidditch win, and the sound of the laughter of then four of them after having dragged all of their mattresses onto the floor of their dorms and spent full days laying around eating sweets and playing Exploding Snap. He stopped the longest at a picture of the four of them, taken by Marlene, arms slung over each other in an easy camaraderie, a genuine love and connection that none of them was ever ashamed of expressing. 

His eyes stopped on Peter, searching the innocence of the boy’s smile for a sign of something they must have missed, trying to find justification for what he had done to them, how he had torn apart everything that they’d all built together. 

“I don’t think it’s worth the wondering,” Remus said softly, as though he could read Sirius’s mind. “We could make ourselves sick wondering why he did it, and it won’t change anything.” 

Sirius nodded and put the picture back in exchange for one of him and James together. He let out a huff of air that could have been a laugh or a sob and just stared into the deep-skinned face of the boy who had given him everything he’d never had. 

“Fuck, I miss him,” Sirius said after a long moment, then reached up to rub the tears from his face with the ball of his hand. “I’m not sure if I knew that there was anything worthwhile in this Merlin-forsaken world until James Potter smacked some sense into me.” 

“He loved you, Pads. You were his brother.” 

“We all were. He loved all of us. Pain in the arse mother hen he was, but the bloke had what love to give. Despite everything.” He sighed. “Sorry mate, you came here to help clean and got stuck with the bloody water works.” 

Remus shrugged, then brought a gentle hand to Sirius’s cheek, rubbing away tears with his thumb, “We’re still allowed to give a shite about each other, you know? We’re allowed to grieve together, we lost them all, James and Lily, sure-- but Peter too in some ways. It’s okay to hurt for all of it.” 

Sirius nodded and looked at Remus with a small smile, “Yeah, Moons, thanks.” 

“You’re all I have left, Sirius.”

Leaning the weight of his head into Remus’s hand was almost instinctual; those long, elegant fingers on his cheek felt more like home to Sirius than the walls that surrounded them both, and he tried to keep his breath from hitching as he narrowed his eyes, looking to Remus’s face for the answer to a silent question. 

It would remain unasked, because just as Sirius drew in a breath, there was a loud crash that rang out from the room across the hall. 

“The fuck?” Sirius shot up to stand, pulling his wand out of the bun in his hair and making his way towards the door. He gestured for Remus to stand behind him and follow, and they both made their way out to the corridor. 

“Is someone there?”

The door to Regulus’s room was open, and there was a shuffling noise coming from inside. Sirius let himself slip into the dog’s mind for a moment, listening for a heartbeat or any other signs of life. After a moment he dropped his wand, shaking his head as he yelled out. 

“Oi, fucker, show yourself!” 

The shuffling stopped, and a house elf appeared in the doorway. 

“Bloody hell, Kreacher, I didn’t know you were still alive.”

“Unfortunately, I am, Master Black.” 

Sirius grimaced at the address, but lowered his wand. “Remus, this is Kreacher, he comes from the long line of heads on the wall in the front corridor.” 

“Pleased to meet you, Kreacher,” Remus said hesitantly. 

Kreacher bowed, “I am obliged to serve my master and his guests,” he said frankly, although he didn't seem happy about it.” 

”Well, we’re chucking the lot,” Sirius said with a shrug.

“I have noticed that Master Black is unjustly liberating items from the house of his fathers’,” the elf’s words were tinged in judgement.

“Do you have an opinion on this, Kreacher,” Sirius raised an eyebrow in amusement. 

“My thoughts on the matter are of no consequence.” 

Sirius furrowed his brow for a moment and then looked back at Remus, “He’s taking the mickey with me. Watch-- Kreacher, I demand that you tell me what your opinion is about my putting every little piece of shite from the house in the bin.” 

Kreacher groaned, “Kreacher has been tasked to protect certain items and does not want harm to come to them.” 

“Like what?” 

“It is not for Master Sirius to know.” 

“Tell me what you’ve been ordered to protect.” 

The elf dropped to the ground and lay on his back, then banged his head on the floor a few times before speaking again, his tone resigned, “Master Regulus’s locket.”

“A locket?” Sirius looked down at the elf, “Regulus didn’t have a locket. What is it?” 

“A locket that Kreacher was asked to protect.” 

“Tell me why.” 

“Master Regulus needed to keep it hidden from the Dark Lord, Master Regulus died to protect the Dark Lord from finding it.”

Sirius took a step back, almost colliding with Remus, who put both hands out to brace Sirius’s back. “He what--? Kreacher, give me the locket.” 

Kreacher stood, obviously by compulsion, as it seemed he was actively fighting the urge to go retrieve the item. “Kreacher promised to protect it--- for Master Regulus-- keep it hidden from the Dark Lord--” he disappeared into the room for a moment and then returned with the oval shaped locket in hand, and held it up to Sirius. “Kreacher needs to protect it--” 

“The Dark Lord’s dead,” Sirius said matter-of-factly, “And even if he isn’t, it’s not as though he and I are chummy, is it?” 

Kreacher looked up at Sirius, tennis-ball eyes wide, “Need to protect it-- protect Master Regulus’s secrets--” 

Sirius took the locket from the elf and almost immediately the canine part of his brain stood at attention. It looked ordinary enough, no different than any of the other ornate and gaudy jewelry that he was certain to find in this house, but something about it--

“You feel that, Moons?” Sirius turned to Remus, who’s expression was one of disgust and wonder. 

“I do,” Remus eyed the object suspiciously. “I don’t like it, well, the wolf doesn’t like it.” 

“Yeah, Pads either-- Reckon’ we should tell Moody? Or Dumbledore?” He turned back to Kreacher, “Tell me what Regulus’s secrets are.”

***

A half hour later a Patronus had been sent off to Dumbledore, and Remus and Sirius had settled into chairs in the library, a bottle of firewhiskey open between them. It didn’t take long for Dumbledore to arrive, and he spent quite a long time examining the locket before turning to Kreacher, 

“My dear Kreacher,” Dumbledore knelt, “It is most important that you share with us everything that young Mister Black told you before his death. It seems to me that he had made an important discovery here, and we would like to continue his great work.”

Kreacher looked skeptically between Dumbledore and Sirius. 

“Tell him,” Sirius said darkly, to which Dumbledore held up a calm hand. 

“You are beholden to no one but yourself right now, Kreacher,” Dumbledore said softly. 

Kreacher nodded. “Master Regulus volunteered Kreacher to go on a dangerous mission with the Dark Lord. One day, a year after he had joined with the Dark Lord, Master Regulus came down to the kitchen to see Kreacher. Master Regulus always liked Kreacher. And Master Regulus said-- he said--- he said that the Dark Lord required an elf.”

“Why in the world--?” Sirius narrowed his eyes and Dumbledore, once again, held up a hand to silence him. 

“And Master Regulus had volunteered Kreacher. It was an honor, said Master Regulus, an honor for him and for Kreacher, who must be sure to do whatever the Dark Lord ordered him to do--and then to c-come home.”

By this point, Kreacher sat on the floor and hugged his knees, clearly upset by the memory. 

“So Kreacher went to the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord did not tell Kreacher what they were to do, but took Kreacher with him to a cave beside the sea. And beyond the cave there was a cavern, and in the cavern was a great black lake-- and a boat that led to an island. There was a b-basin full of potion on the island. The D-Dark Lord made Kreacher drink it. Kreacher drank, and as he drank, he saw terrible things. He made Kreacher drink all the potion-- He dropped a locket into the empty basin. And he filled it with more potion-- And then the Dark Lord sailed away, leaving Kreacher on the island.”

The elf paused, holding his wiry hand to his throat. Remus, sensing something, got up to fill a glass of water and hand it to Kreacher. 

“But Master Regulus told Kreacher to come back, so Kreacher did. And Kreacher told Master Regulus what happened. And Master Regulus was worried, very very worried. And then-- it was a little while later-- Master Regulus came to find Kreacher in his cupboard one night, and Mas-  
ter Regulus was strange, not as he usually was, disturbed in his mind, Kreacher could tell-- and he asked Kreacher to take him to the cave, the cave where Kreacher had gone with the Dark Lord--”

Sirius’s eyes had gone wide, “And did you--?” 

“When we got there, M-Master Regulus took from his pocket a locket like the one the Dark Lord had,” Kreacher had started to cry, “And he told Kreacher to take it and, when the basin was empty, to switch the lockets-- And he ordered Kreacher to leave without him. And told Kreacher to go home and to never tell my Mistress what he had done-- and to destroy the locket. And then he drank-- all the potion. And Kreacher did what he was told--” He let out a loud sob, “But Kreacher failed! Kreacher tried everything, everything he knew, but nothing, nothing would work-- So many powerful spells upon the casing, Kreacher was sure the way to destroy it was to get inside it, but it would not open-- Kreacher punished himself, he tried again, he punished himself, he tried again. Kreacher failed to obey orders, Kreacher could not destroy the locket! And his Mistress was mad with grief, because Master Regulus had disappeared, and Kreacher could not tell her what had happened, no, because Master Regulus had f-f-forbidden him to tell any of the f-f-family what happened in the c-cave--”

And with that, Kreacher fell to the floor, sobbing. 

“Kreacher, my friend,” Dumbledore smiled at the elf, “You have done well, and I would like to remove this locket from your obligations as I’m fairly certain I know how to destroy it, and I also know why Regulus wanted you to do so--” 

“It-- is-- dark--” Kreacher gulped. 

“Indeed it is,” Dumbledore affirmed. 

“Master Regulus-- called it something-- a funny word-- old magic, dark magic.”

“Pray tell, this could be most enlightening,” Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. 

“He called it a Horcrux.”

“This then confirms my suspicions, and lays the next few stones in our path, I do believe. Kreacher, please go take care of yourself, Masters Black and Lupin and I have much to discuss.”


	14. Lost Souls

After Dumbledore left, Remus and Sirius sat in silence for a long while, processing the overwhelming wealth of information that had been dangled in front of them. After a while, Sirius lit a cigarette and then shook his head, “They beat a lot of that old magic and shite into me as a kid, and fuck if I retained any of it, but Reg-- Reg must have. Fucking hell, you think he’s really broken apart his soul?” 

“Dumbledore seems to think so,” Remus replied thoughtfully, “Kreacher too.” 

“Fucking elf,” Sirius shook his head and ashed the cigarette into a tea saucer, “my brother was bloody soft for that elf, rarely out of each other’s sight when Reg was home. You’d think they were boffing or summat.” 

“Says the bloke who used to sleep with a werewolf,” Remus raised a brow. 

“S’different,” Sirius shrugged, “Least you’re a human 353 days of the year.” 

Remus laughed, “Did you just willingly do maths?” 

“Sod off, you ponce.” Sirius smiled. And then frowned. “Fuck, I can’t--” he sighed, “I gave up on him, underestimated him, I never would have thought he’d be brave enough--” He put out the cigarette in the saucer. “We were best mates, when we were little. And then I got sorted, and started to realize all of the bull pizzle they shoved into us was just that, and he and I-- I wrote him off, never thought we’d end up on the same side--” 

“You judged him based on his actions, Sirius,” Remus offered, “I don’t see how you could have done anything differently.” 

“Maybe you’re right, it just--” he trailed off. 

“Pads?” 

Sirius looked back at Remus, “I’ve spent so much time turning them all into monsters in my head. The arseholes behind those masks used to chase me ‘round these halls playing games, we were at every party together, every wedding, every stupid socialite event. And then all of a sudden they all wanted to kill me. Kill the people I loved. And aside from Andromeda, and my uncle Alphard, also a tosser, I’ll note, I was the only one who left, and I _was_ the only one who really fought. There were times where I wondered if I was the one that was on the wrong side, even though theirs made no bloody sense to me. But if he realized-- if Regulus thought that what Voldemort was doing was that evil, it just means--” 

“You weren’t as alone as you thought?” 

“Yeah, mate. Something like that.” 

***

They’d finished going through the two fourth floor bedrooms, the study, and the master when they elected to stop for the night. The sitting room and library likely wouldn’t need much work, beyond chucking everything that Sirius found offensive, the kitchen and dining room didn’t need to be touched at all, and the guestrooms had always been fairly innocuous. That left just the corridors: the elf heads on the wall, the antiquities lining the built-in shelves along each wall, and the portrait of Walburga that, despite efforts and cooperative magic, would not shut up for any extended period of time. 

Sirius was exhausted. Physically, emotionally, all of it. But his mind was still reeling. So much had transpired in such a short period of time that he had the feeling he wouldn’t be able to sleep for the next week. 

He and Remus had settled in the sitting room again, both sitting in ornate armchairs and sipping at whatever booze Sirius had liberated from his father’s stash. Their idle chatter had died down to a pensive yet comfortable quiet when Sirius smirked playfully and then rose from his chair to cross the room and sit at the piano. 

“Gonna play me Chopsticks, Pads?” Remus chuckled and narrowed his eyes at Sirius. 

“Oi, fuck off.” Sirius licked his lips and closed his eyes for a moment before putting his fingers to the keys. He looked up at Remus once more and then started playing. Sirius was surprised at how quickly muscle memory took over, and he smiled as his hands danced up and down the instrument. He stopped mid-piece, right before a tricky bit of fingerwork that he’d never quite gotten right, even at his best, and looked up at Remus with a mischievous glint in his eye. 

“The fuck was that?” Remus laughed.

“ _Un Sospiro_ ,” Sirius shrugged plainly. 

Remus stood up and walked over to the piano, standing over Sirius’s shoulder in disbelief. “I didn’t even know you could-- Play another.” 

Sirius looked up at Remus over his shoulder and smiled. “How about something fun?”

“Like?” 

“Fleamont had a good collection of swing--” Before Remus had the chance to respond, Sirius started the first few chords of _Deuces Wild_. He played for a few moments before pausing to grab his wand and flick it towards the piano twice so that the tune kept playing on its own. Sirius turned around on the bench and tilted his head up towards Remus, eyebrows raised. 

“It’s been a long time, Padfoot,” Remus couldn’t help the fond smile. 

Sirius stood, then took the drink from Remus’s hand and placed it down on the top of the piano (a sin that would have been severely punished had either of his parents still been alive), then put a hand on Remus’s left hip and grabbed his opposite hand. The jazzy music floated around them as they danced, filling the room with a sense of joy that quenched some long ignored thirst in both of them.

They used to go dancing often, to Muggle and Wizarding clubs alike, depending on their mood. The Wizarding clubs were always a good time, with their bright twinkly lights and live music that could literally change the mood of the entire room, but there was a wholly different type of magical within the seedy tosser joints in SoHo that played a mix of pop music and jazz hits, where Remus and Sirius could just disappear into a crowd of men who didn’t look twice at them when their hands wandered. More than once they’d gotten each other so worked up that they didn’t bother waiting to get home before slipping off into a filthy washroom or dark alleyway. 

The piano slowed and then came to a stop, but the pair stayed close. Sirius wasn’t sure if his buzz was from exhaustion, the alcohol, the dancing, or some combination thereof, but he knew that if he broke from this embrace that the calm that had taken over his body would cease, letting the melange of emotion break through once more. He rested his forehead on Remus’s shoulder, and Remus pulled him in closer, the two of them still swaying gently to a tune that only existed in their collective memory. After another beat or two had passed, Sirius looked up at Remus. 

Remus spoke first. “What are we doing?” He met Sirius’s gaze, then brought a tentative hand to the side of Sirius’s neck. 

“Dancing.” Obviously.   
`  
“Music stopped a few minutes ago, Sirius.” 

“Then we’re standing. Close to each other.” Sirius swallowed as Remus ran the pad of his thumb along his jaw. 

“Stop deflecting, Padfoot.” 

“But I’m so bloody good at it.” Sirius let out a sigh and dropped his hands from Remus, then took a step back. Remus frowned. 

“I don’t know, okay--? I don’t know what we’re doing. It’s been a fucking hell of a day and I just thought we were having a bit of fun.” 

“We were,” Remus watched Sirius carefully, “I was.” 

“Then why does it matter what we’re doing?” Sirius reached for his cigarettes and lit one. 

“I suppose it doesn’t.” 

Sirius nodded and took a pull of the cigarette. “Thanks for your help today, anyway.” 

“Yeah, mate, of course.” 

“And for letting me spill out all of that shite about my kid brother.” 

“No problem.” Remus looked at the floor, “Hey Sirius?” 

“Yeah, Remus?” 

“I know you’re just trying to protect him, and I get that, but I-- I’d really like--” 

“What, Moony?” 

“I want to see Harry.” 

Sirius squeezed his eyes closed in frustration. 

“I haven’t seen him since before they--”

“I know.” 

“If it’s because of what I am, we can wait until the new moon. Until I’m a bit more stable.” 

“Fuck Remus, if everything we’ve been through hasn’t shown you that I don’t give a shite about that, then I don’t know what will. We’ve been over this more times than I can count.” 

“Then why--?” 

“I don’t know, okay? He’s just-- I’m not-- I don’t know.” 

“I know you’re his godfather, Sirius. And I respect that. But even if you and I-- I love that boy just as much as you do, and I miss them just as much. I want to be in his life. Please.” 

***  
Dumbledore showed up to the Tonks’ unannounced early the next day. Ted was still in his bathrobe when he opened the door to Sirius’s room, waking both the aforementioned and Harry in the process, to tell him that the headmaster wanted a word. 

“Bloody hell, what time is it?” Sirius groaned and rolled over. 

“Buddy hill!” Harry squealed. Sirius shook his head and laughed. 

“I suppose that’s my fault,” he smiled sheepishly at Ted. 

“Eh, no harm done,” Ted smiled back, “Dora’s repeated worse.” 

Sirius picked Harry up out of his crib, and set him down so he could grab a new nappy and set of clothes. By the time he turned around again, Harry was gone from the room, having run down the hallway to Dora’s room. 

Sirius threw his arms down in mock frustration. “That little monster— Oi, Bambi! Get back here!” He grinned as he pushed past Ted and then chased Harry down, scooping the boy up before he could wake up his cousin.

“You’re a right pain in my bum, you are,” he made a silly face at Harry, then leaned in to blow a raspberry on his neck. The child let out a shriek of glee and threw his head back in a fit of giggles. 

“It seems you’ve taken to your role well, Mr. Black,” Dumbledore was on the sitting room sofa with a cup of tea in his hand.

“Yeah, trying--” Sirius knelt down and stood Harry up in front of him, then quickly pulled off the child’s pyjama bottoms and changed his nappy before letting him run off into the kitchen to get his plate of breakfast from Ted. 

“And when’s the big move?” 

“Still have a bit of work to do at Grimmauld, so not yet, but sometime in the next few weeks I’d wager.” 

“That is if I actually let you leave,” Andromeda came in from down the hallway, having changed out of her pyjamas and into something more suited to a meeting with Dumbledore. “Now, Albus, how can we help you?” 

“I must preface by telling you, Sirius, that I’ve not slept more than a wink since we last saw each other.” Dumbledore took a sip of his tea. “And I say this, not to impart any guilt or illicit any pity, but so that you understand the importance of your discovery. Please sit, both of you.” 

They did. 

“Now I’ve just come from a very trying visit with Horace Slughorn, and I have reason to believe that the item that you and Mister Lupin found is not as unique as we would hope it to be.” 

“There are more lockets?” Sirius narrowed his eyes. 

“More Horcruxes, likely in objects of a similar caliber to the one you found. Which is why it’s quite fortuitous that two Blacks are currently living in the same place.” 

Andromeda’s jaw stiffened. “And why is that?” 

“Ahh, well mostly because I am quite tired and am glad to be able to check two items off my list in one place.” 

“That doesn’t answer the question.” Sirius’s tone grew defensive. 

“Before my meeting with Horace,” Dumbledore continued, “I sought out an old friend that could allay a wild suspicion that I had. The locket you found, Sirius, do you recall its appearance?” 

“Yeah, hideous old thing, green gems, a snake in the shape of an ‘S.’” 

“How shrewd you are, dear boy. I had suspected that the shape of the snake was of utmost importance in identifying the object, and I was, indeed, correct on that front. My friend, a great master of recognizing antiquities and valuables has confirmed that the locket you found was once the property of none other than Salazar Slytherin.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Sirius blurted out before he could stop himself. 

“I will not, as I think the rest of my thoughts are quite important.” Dumbledore replied calmly. “When I went to Horace with this information, he informed me that a young man by the name of Tom Riddle, a former student of both of us, had once come and asked him about the feasibility of making multiple Horcruxes. Seven to be exact.” 

“Seven!?” Andromeda’s eyes went wide, “That’s--” 

“Unheard of.” Dumbledore offered, “And while I expect that he didn’t reach that number, I have no way of determining how many there actually are, but what I do have are two brilliant associates who were raised in the Pureblood tradition, and would thus, have been educated as to wizarding items and relics.” He smiled at them knowingly. 

“You think I remember any of the shite they tried to get me to believe in?” Sirius raised an eyebrow. “I just spent the better part of two days chucking Orion’s valuables at a bloody wall.” 

“Ravenclaw’s Diadem,” Andromeda said without hesitation. “And Helga Hufflepuff’s most famous portrait is of her drinking from a bejeweled cup-- goblet, chalice if you will.” 

“Excellent, Andromeda.” Dumbledore took out a pad and scribbled some notes. 

“The only other house item I can think of is Gryffindor’s sword--” 

“And that is tucked safely away in my office, and decidedly not possessed by a piece of Voldemort’s soul.” He paused for a moment, “The other piece of information that I have is word that Voldemort has tasked some of his closest followers with protecting items of his, I can only imagine that they are the Horcruxes he’s already created. And I have word, Andromeda, that one apiece, although I’ve no evidence as to which, are in the possession of your sisters and their respective spouses.” 

Sirius snorted a laugh. “You want her to go knock on Bella’s door and ask for it?” 

“I don’t expect that Mrs. Lestrange would take kindly to a visit from you, Andromeda, but I am wondering if you would, perhaps, be better received by Mrs. Malfoy.” 

Andromeda looked back at Dumbledore with an expression of something akin to shock.


	15. The First Few (absolutely exhausting in ways that Sirius thinks are akin to torture) Nights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me. Work is crazy. Life is crazy. The election has me stressed as shit. 
> 
> Also, for some reason, writing about sleepness nights was hard for this toddler mom, which is weird because I haven't slept in like four years. 
> 
> Hopefully this is worth it. *-)

Sirius was certain that the repetitive creek of this damned rocking chair would be forever emblazoned in his memory. It was the third time he’d returned to it, Harry nestled into his arms, staring up at him with a sleepy smile on his face. “Ya. Haf-ta. Go. To. Sleep. Mate,” Sirius spoke in time with the noise from the chair. He was so tired at this point that his head was starting to ache, the pain softened only by the fog of exhaustion that threatened to overcome him at any moment. 

Andromeda had tried her best not to cry as he and Harry said their goodbyes that afternoon, and Sirius couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt that he was leaving them. But he knew it couldn’t last forever, and he had to allow his cousin to get back to her life. She had never planned on taking him in, let alone a child she knew nothing of; but she had, despite the pain they all carried with them. Sirius couldn’t help but wonder if, in some way, his presence in her home was the last vestige of the war, and if now might begin a different period of healing for her family. He could feel good about that, because, after all, weren’t they all just in pursuit of something that felt like normal? 

But now, here he was, with a toddler that seemed to have absolutely no interest in sleeping, questioning whether he was a right fool for daring to think that he could do this all on his own. But he was too tired for existential dread. He was too tired to think. Too tired to breath, really. Sirius had no idea that he could be this tired; he’d fought in a war, hadn’t he? Stayed awake for hours through the night to gather intel, riding the high of adrenaline and nicotine, fought battles on little to know sleep, struggling to keep his senses about him. But now here he was, bested by a small human that seemed to have no desire to close his big green eyes.

As he felt his own lids get heavy, Sirius daring to let his eyes close for just a moment, two tiny fingers reached up and pinched the skin of his neck. 

“Oi!” Sirius’s yelp was met by giggles from Harry. 

“Wake up, Pa-foo!” 

Sirius groaned. “You have to go to sleep, kid. You’re going to kill me.” 

“Play?” Harry asked. “Play Pa-foo?” 

***  
It was well into the morning by the time Harry actually got to sleep, and then, like clockwork, he was up at his usual daily time without even a hint of the fact that the child hadn’t gotten enough sleep. 

The next night was just the same. 

Sirius felt like he was going to collapse. He couldn’t comprehend how the child was still up and ready to go about his merry way when Sirius, an adult who had spent years of his life up all night once a month running about with a werewolf, felt tired in a way he’d never thought possible. 

“Muggles use sleep deprivation as a form of torture, little mate.” Sirius sipped at his coffee as he watched Harry playing on the floor of what used to be his father’s study. “Moody’ll tell you all about it if you want—“ he yawned. “Fuck, I’m so tired.” 

“Fuck!” Harry looked up at Sirius and giggled. 

“No, no, no!” Sirius groaned and slid down to the floor, “I’m sorry little fawn, Pa-foo shouldn’t have used that word, it’s a bad word, and Evans is turning in her grave that it just came out of your mouth. We don’t say that, okay?” 

“Fuck!” 

He was too exhausted to even care. 

***  
That night was no different. Harry, who hadn’t even given Sirius the reprieve of his usual midday nap, was wide awake and playful when bedtime rolled along. 

“I can’t mate,” Sirius based the child’s bedroom, once his own brother’s. “I can’t keep doing this. I’m going to go mad, and then you’re going to have to live in this house with a certifiably insane person. What if I cuddle up with you as a dog? Would that help? Would you please just go to sleep? Just for a little bit?” 

“Pa-foo play?”

“Ugh.” 

***

The next night was much the same, and Sirius wasn’t sure he could take it any more. 

“Potter, if you don’t go the fuck to sleep I’m don’t even know what I’m going to do because I’m too fucking tired to figure out an acceptable punishment.” Harry just giggled at him.

If you had asked him the next day why he sent the Patronus to Remus and not Andromeda, Sirius would have been entirely unable to determine why. Perhaps it was because he didn’t want his cousin, so proud and stoic, to see how fabulously he was failing, or perhaps because he needed Remus to reassure him that he would figure this out somehow. Perhaps because he couldn’t imagine asking Andromeda to have to face the dark halls of this house, even as much as he had redone them, or perhaps because he knew that Remus was desperate to see Harry. He didn’t know why. 

But he did it, regardless.

Remus showed up an hour later, his eyes welling with tears as he took a giggly Harry from Sirius. 

“Go to bed, Pads,” Remus gave the child a squeeze, “You look like hell.” 

“Gee, thanks,” Sirius replied snarkily, but then sighed with relief as he made his way across the hall to his bedroom. 

It could have been minutes or hours later that Remus was gently squeezing Sirius’s shoulder as he slept. 

“Harry’s been out for a bit, mate,” Remus’s voice was soft, “I’m going to go kip down on the sofa for a bit, don’t you worry if he wakes again, I’ll take care of it.” 

“No,” Sirius rolled over to look at Remus, his eyes opening, “Stay here.” 

“I am, Pads.” 

“No, I mean here. With me.” He moved over in the bed to make room. “Please.” 

Remus bit his lip and sighed, then toed off his shoes and stripped down to his vest. “Are you--?”

“Of course I’m sure.” Sirius looked up at Remus with a glimmer of (was it?) hope in his eyes. Remus smiled and knelt down, crawling into the bed next to Sirius. 

“Wotcher.” It was Sirius who pulled his lip between his teeth this time, unable to hide the intake of breath at the sight of Remus laying next to him. 

“Good to see that lack of sleep still makes you delusional,” Remus raised an eyebrow and looked into Sirius’s eyes, his smile growing despite himself. 

“Oi, fuck you on about, I’m sharp as a--” he cocked his head a bit. “What do the Muggles say?” 

Remus laughed, and the sound awoke something in Sirius, something that had never quite fallen asleep, but had been pretending to doze and hoping nobody noticed. But now, here it was, bubbling forth towards the surface, the chortle of Remus’s laughter bringing to a boil everything that Sirius had been trying to hide from for the past few months. 

He furrowed his brow and then closed his eyes, rubbing his face with his hand. 

“Hey Pads, we can just sleep next to each other, yeah?” Remus sighed, “We did it before we were together, and we can do it now.” 

“I know--” Sirius trailed off, not sure how to redirect that comment, not sure if he wanted to. 

“And Sirius?” 

“Yeah?” His voice was hopeful, despite any attempt at hiding it. 

“Thanks. For this. For letting me come help. Seeing him, it’s just--” 

“You’re the one helping _me_ , mate.” 

“Let me finish.” Remus gave a sad smile, “Seeing him is like being able to remember something you’d thought you’d long forgotten. You all meant so much to me, and the idea of losing Harry-- It was like losing James a second time. So thank you.” 

“Meant?” 

“Hmm?” 

“We all _meant_ so much to you?” 

“Oh, shut up with the pedantics, Sirius, you know what I mean.” 

Sirius smirked, then raised his eyebrow in a challenge. “You want me to shut up?” 

“It would certainly make my life slightly more peaceful, I reckon.” 

Sirius gave him a playful kick to the shin, then thought _fuck it_ and moved in to kiss Remus. 

It was tentative at first, gentle even, but the second Sirius settled into the familiarity of the feel and taste, the kiss suddenly became desperate. One of Remus’s hands quickly moved to slide up into Sirius’s hair, pulling the elastic from it and then running his fingers through it, and his other found purchase in the grip it took of Sirius’s pyjama shirt. 

Sirius couldn’t help the soft moan into Remus’s mouth, that hand in his hair sending electricity through his entire body. He brought both of his own hands to Remus’s neck, pulling him in to deepen the kiss. 

It was when Sirius's thigh shifted slightly so it could press up in between Remus’s legs that Remus pulled back, face flushed and lips swollen, to look at Sirius. “You’re exhausted, Sirius,” he moved a piece of hair out of Sirius’s face and tucked it behind his ear. “This isn’t the right time for this.”

“Isn’t it?” Sirius asked, searching, “We finally have the chance to take something back for ourselves. You said it yourself, like remembering. Don’t you want that?” 

Remus sighed. “Of course I do.”

“Then fucking kiss me again.”

Remus let out a soft growl and rolled them so that he was on top of Sirius, straddling him. Sirius looked up with a mischievous glint in his eye and a smirk spread across his lips. 

“I thought you were tired,” Remus teased, fingers playing at the hem of Sirius’s shirt in a way that made a shiver run through him. 

“I am.” He replied, “Bloody knackered. Don’t know if I’ve ever been this tired before.” 

Remus shook his head and smiled, “Are you sure about this?” 

“Yeah, Moony,” Sirius brought a hand to touch Remus’s cheek. “I’m sure.” He tugged Remus down into another kiss, then pushed him back up so that he could strip off both of their shirts. Like a magnet Sirius swelled up to kiss Remus’s bare chest, pausing for a moment with his lips over the heartbeat that he used to know as well as his own, the steady pounding of a song that was meant only for him. Sirius inhaled, taking in, too, everything that was Remus’s scent: black loose leaf tea, and bergamot, and earth. It was a scent so familiar, so soothing, that Sirius could have cried. 

Instead, he chased a kiss with a hot swipe of his tongue, wanting to taste that smell, taste the sweat on Remus’s skin. Remus jerked forward a bit, and Sirius laughed against the pectoral, then ran his hands down Remus’s sides and started to undo his trousers. “Fuck, I missed this,” he lay back down as his fingers traced shapes along the edge of Remus’s underpants. 

“I missed _you_.” Remus said in return, moving in to kiss and nip and lick at Sirius’s neck. Sirius threw his head back and gasped, then quickly moved to shove off his own pants. Once they were both naked, Sirius let himself fall back into the bed again, looking up at Remus and tracing the muscles in his arms and chest with his fingers before nodding towards the nightstand. 

“Lube,” he told Remus, who chuckled and reached to open the drawer. 

“You’re sure you’re sure?” 

“Shut up and fuck me, Lupin.” 

***  
Afterward they clung to each other, Sirius burying his nose in Remus’s neck and letting the throes of his orgasm fill his every sense. _This,_ he thought. This was home for Sirius Black in a way the vast house could never be in its own right. _This_ was the piece that could somehow make him whole again. He pressed a kiss to Remus’s neck. “You’ll stay, yeah?”

“Tonight, yeah, of course. Unless you don’t--” 

“No,” Sirius shifted them so they were on their sides, facing each other. “ _Stay_. Here. With me. With us.”

“Sirius, don’t---”

“Remus, please. We were so good together. We worked. We can work again, it’s not like we--”

Remus couldn’t help the smile, “It’s not like we what?”

“I’m in love with you, you arse,” Sirius smiled back, “Never stopped.” 

“Love you back,” Remus leaned in to kiss Sirius on the forehead. 

“So move in. We can do this together. Raise Harry, keep him safe, teach him, love him-- They would have wanted this, you know? Us. It was what they would have wanted.” 

Remus’s smile grew, “Alright, I’ll stay.” 

Sirius laughed and then brought their lips back together in a furious kiss that ended in laughter when the shrill sound of Harry crying broke them apart. 

“Fuck,” Sirius buried his face in the pillow. 

“Go to sleep, Pads,” Remus turned to pull on his pants, “I’ve got him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love me, please. Someone has to.


	16. A Surprise Visit

Something wasn’t right. Peter didn’t want to believe the feeling in his gut, but unfortunately his instinct about things was usually pretty good, and every fiber of his being was telling him that something was off. It had started back at the Burrow over summer holiday, the familiar faces of order members in and out as it became more and more difficult for Molly to travel with six boys and a belly swollen with what would be her last pregnancy. When Ginny was born in August, the visits slowed, but owls came in at a greater frequency, and every so often Peter would recognize a visitor or two. It was unsettling to say the least, and he was grateful when the September 1st train ride to Hogwarts took him back to the castle, where he wasn’t in any danger of running into his old friends. 

Or so he thought. 

It started with the whispers. It was two weeks since the September first return to Hogwarts, and the Gryffindor students huddled around the Common Room and in the dorms, discussing in hushed voices speculation about the announcement that had apparently been made at supper that evening. 

Peter was grateful to have been able to join Bill in the Common Room, and he skittered about the back of the sofa taking bits of cheese and cracker from any of the students that offered it. It also gave him a prime spot to listen in. 

“Telling someone not to be alarmed is the fastest way to raise an alarm.”

“Yeah well, my mother calls Dumbledore an idiot savant, whatever that means, but I think he’s not the smartest sometimes.” 

“It means it’s so smart that he’s stupid.” Laughter broke out for a moment. 

“But who do you think is coming?”

“He just said _visitors_.”

“Visitors. That means more than one.”

“The odd bird with colorful hair in Hufflepuff said it was her cousin.”

“Tonks?” Bill asked. 

“Yeah, that’s the one.” 

Peter wasn’t sure why that name sounded familiar, but it did. 

“I wonder what they’re all looking for.” 

“What _exactly_ did Dumbledore say again?” 

“That ‘visitors will be joining us in the castle to search for important artefacts.’” 

“What in Godric’s name are they looking for?” 

“Who knows?” 

“Probably summit worth a galleon or two. Plan to sell it.” 

“But why would Dumbledore let them do that---?”

It went on like this for the better part of an hour, curiosity and speculation filling the room with excitement. Peter’s head was reeling, trying to piece together something useful. Who would be coming to Hogwarts castle two weeks into a new term? Why not just come over the summer where there were no students to be found? That had to mean that the reason for the visit wasn’t financial. Anything of serious value in the castle was known about, and even if someone had been scouting out a particular relic, that decision would have been made with more than enough time to plan a surprise visit. 

This was an immediate need. Someone thought the necessity of bringing people into Hogwarts was so urgent that it be done immediately, with no regard to the hundreds of students running about the halls. That had to mean it was important. 

And that’s what made Peter start to worry. 

He dreamt about his Mum that night, alone in the small cottage they’d shared, calling for him in the darkness. He dreamt of Bellatrix Lestrange at the door, the shrill haunt of her voice carrying through every molecule of his body, unless the shouts turned to laughter and the whole world turned red. 

Peter was shaken awake by Bill, gently pressing his side with two fingers, “Oi, Scabbers,” the boy smiled, “Being chased by a cat in yer dreams were ya’?” If only. 

**

It wasn’t but a few nights later that the “visitors” started to arrive at Hogwarts, and Peter’s worst suspicions were confirmed when he heard the oddly familiar voices carrying from the Gryffindor Common Room up to the dorm. 

It was the laughter that gave it away; the deep barking laugh that seemed to resonate in the walls of the castle like it had forever been a part of the stonework. And without seeing him, without knowing what in the world Sirius was laughing at, Peter felt a sharp twinge of something that might have been anger, or fear, but which certainly felt a lot like envy. 

***

“Fuck, mate,” Sirius grinned as they stepped out of the portrait hole, looking at Remus with a glint in his eye. 

“I know that look, Pads, and I’m not sure I like it.” Remus smiled back as Sirius let out a laugh. 

“Just weird, is all. Being back.” He reached over to touch the back of one of the chairs. “Can sort of imagine them still being here, yeah? Just down the corridor, or hiding out under the cloak somewhere--” he trailed off, almost listening for Lily's silky laugh. 

“Let’s get to business,” Remus interrupted Sirius’s nostalgia. “Because we’re not likely to find anything in here, and we have a lot of ground to cover.”

Sirius chuckled, “Don’t think You-Know-Who would have hidden things in his rival’s common room?” 

“When he had an entire castle? No. I don’t think. Let’s go.” 

“But can’t we just--?”

Peter froze as he heard Sirius Black come nearer to the dormitory stairs. He’d been hiding there, just ‘round the bend of the staircase, out of sight, but within range for him to hear what was going on. 

“No,” Remus said firmly, “We have a job to do, we can’t just-- anything.” 

Sirius groaned and turned from the stairs, then paused for a moment, wrinkling his nose before closing his eyes for the briefest of seconds. 

Peter felt the shift in the air and crept silently backward, darting quickly into a pile of dirty laundry to conceal his smell. 

***

The Dark Lord had hidden something at Hogwarts. More than one something, even. The Order of the Phoenix was sending members to the castle to search it. Not just members. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, who knew the castle better than perhaps the founders themselves. What could they have been looking for? Did they find it? But the biggest question, the one that caused panic to electrify every molecule in his body, the one that made the rat’s heart pound so quickly that rather than a thumping sound, it has become a low hum that shook Peter to his core, that question was _why would the Order still be investigating Voldemort if they thought he was dead?_

Peter knew the answer to that question. 

They wouldn’t. 

Which meant that Voldemort was alive.

Which meant that he had to find a way to check in on his mum. 

He tried not to think of her often, because when he did a wave of guilt fell over him. And if his nightmare the other night was a swelling of those waters, then this was like a tsunami, devastating anything in its path and unyielding in the weight it put on him. And _that_ , Peter reminded himself, was the difference between himself and the other Marauders. 

Once Euphemia and Fleamont had passed, Peter was the only one of them left with anything that resembled a decent parent. Lily’s had died in a car accident sixth year, Sirius’s were as good as dead to him, Remus had little to no relationship with Lyall once Hope had passed, and that left Peter alone with someone outside of their little “pack” that he actually cared about. The boys had each other and Lily, but Peter had his mother. It had started to put something of a divide between them all, especially once Lily and James and then Remus and Sirius had paired off, which often left Peter as the third or fifth or sometimes even no wheel at all. 

But Mum was always there for him, and he had to be there for her. She had been alone since Peter was eleven, when his Muggle father finally realized he wasn’t going to convince his wife not to send their son to _that school_. She had chosen Peter over his father, and sacrificed so much for him, and so, for her, he’d chosen his path. Chosen to keep her safe when the Lestranges came knocking on their door. 

And he would continue to do that. To keep the Death Eaters from hurting her as revenge for what they believed he had done. If Voldemort was alive, and if Peter got to him first, he might just be able to save her once more. He’d buy his time with the Weasley boy, and see what he could learn about where the Dark Lord might be hiding. And he would get there. He had to get there. Because if he didn’t get there, then eventually Bellatrix Lestrange would. 

And he couldn’t bear the thought of that.

END OF PART ONE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. I decided this needs to be in two parts because... reasons. See you all soon!


	17. The Empty Nest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeahhhh, so this chapter sort of just fell out of me, which is why I'm posting two in a week. 
> 
> This was so much fun to write. I hope you like it.

PART TWO  
NINE YEARS (less a few weeks) LATER  
September 1st, 1991

“Motherfucker, Harry, would’ja get yer arse out of bed!”

From two sides of the house came two different replies: 

“I am out of bed, can’t find any socks--!” 

“Stop swearing, Padfoot!” 

“Then go barefoot, and NO! Half my vocabulary would be gone if I stopped swearing.” 

“You know damn well that’s not true,” Remus came out of the study to meet Sirius in the corridor and playfully swatted Sirius on the bicep. Sirius smiled and draped his arm around Remus’s shoulders, pulling him in for a kiss on the cheek. 

“I packed all of my clothes!” 

“Not sure why you didn’t think to leave anything out for today, s’not like you can ride the train in your skivvies!” 

“Bugger off!” 

“Don’t talk to me like that, young man!” 

“You just swore at me!” 

“He has a point,” Remus grinned at Sirius.

“I don’t bloody get it, mate.” Sirius shook his head, “James was up at the arse crack regardless of the time of year, ready to get on his broom and go, and yet this prat--” he gestured towards the stairs, “he’d sleep until half three if we let him.” He paused, “I blame you.” 

“Capital. Then that gives me all the more reason to blame you for the fact that the kid talks to himself constantly.”

Before Sirius could get too cross, Harry came bolting down the stairs, then stood in front of them and reached down to pull his trousers up to reveal his feet. “Why did my Aunt Petunia think these would be comfortable?” He dropped the pants over what looked like very itchy wool stockings. “Feels like walking in burnt grass.”

Sirius snorted, then pulled on his jacket. Harry stared at him incredulously. 

“What?” Sirius returned the glare. 

“It’s 1991, Padfoot. Take that thing off.” 

Sirius looked at Remus, “Moony, that’s it. Last straw. I’m gonna kill the kid.” 

At that, Sirius knelt down and scooped Harry up over his shoulder, holding tightly to his legs. Harry let out a hearty laugh and Remus followed them to the sitting room, where Sirius chucked Harry down on the sofa and then started tickling him. 

“Stop, Pads! Make him stop, Moony!” 

“You may as well have asked for this, Harry,” Remus shrugged and laughed at the pair. “Now come on, we’re going to be late.” 

***

If Sirius closed his eyes he could have been standing next to James, amongst the hustle of the train platform, trying to avoid any of his family members in his hunt for Remus and Peter. But the view with his eyes open seemed almost better somehow, with Remus on one side and Harry on the other, watching the boy’s eyes light up at the prospect of stepping onto the Hogwarts Express for the first time. 

And if he had been at all worried about missing out on the anxiety and irritation at seeing those of the Black line, he was not disappointed. From down the way he caught a glimpse of luminescent blonde, and he bitterly wondered if Narcissa had any inkling of how incredible her niece was. But it was her loss, he told himself, focusing instead on the sea of ginger that was coming their way. 

“Ron!” Harry yelled and ran to the second youngest Weasley, immediately picking up where they had left off just weeks before. Sirius shook his head fondly at the pair and followed Remus over to greet Molly and Arthur, kissing the former on the cheek before turning to her twin boys. “Anything good planned for early term, lads?” 

“Sirius!” Molly gave him a playful smack on the back of the head, “Do _not_ encourage them!” 

Sirius just smiled and then waited until Molly’s attention was elsewhere before slipping in between Fred and George, “You know the one-eyed witch statue near the Defense classroom?”

Remus shook his head and smiled as Sirius gave the pair details about the passageway. 

The train horn blared just a few moments later, and Sirius helped hoist the last of Harry’s bags onto the train before returning to Remus’s side and looking down at his godson. 

“Don’t be a twat, yeah?” He smiled and then pulled Harry in to give him a kiss on the forehead. 

“I won’t.” 

“Write us after the sorting,” Remus ruffled Harry’s hair, “as soon as you have a chance.” 

“What if I’m in Slytherin?” Harry’s eyes, _Lily’s eyes,_ looked up at his parents with worry. 

Remus smiled, “We love _you_ ,” he put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Not your house, not your grades, not your accomplishments, but _you_.” 

Harry smiled, then looked at Sirius. 

“If you end up in Slytherin, I’ll disown you, then adopt you again only so I can disown you once more.” Sirius smirked, then pulled Harry in for a hug. “Love you, mate. You’ll be great, wherever you are.” He kissed Harry’s head again, let Remus in for a hug, and then watched as the boy ran to join Ron as they climbed onto the train. 

“Oi, Potter!” Sirius shouted, waited for Harry to turn back, “Tell McGonagall I’m still in love with her!” 

“Sod off, Pads!” 

***

“Is the jacket out of style, mate?” They’d just gotten home and Sirius was standing in front of the mirror, head cocked as he made eye contact with Remus, who was watching him from the doorway. 

“Are you taking wardrobe advice from an eleven year old?” 

“Fair point, you did _see_ those socks, right?.” 

Remus laughed and came to wrap his arms around Sirius’s waist. “I like the jacket, always have.” Remus reached up to toy with the collar of said article, pulling it away from Sirius’s neck a bit so he could kiss the exposed skin there. 

Sirius wrinkled his face and then smiled, leaning his head against Remus’s. “He’s at Hogwarts,” he spoke the words into the mirror, watching Remus’s face. 

“I know, Pads.” 

“And he’s bloody smart, and funny, and pretty decent all told.” 

“I think we’ve done alright, yeah.” Remus smiled fondly. 

“Yeah? You think James and Lils would approve?” He turned to look at the photograph of them and James smiled and flipped him off. “Bloody tosser,” Sirius laughed. 

“I think they would, Pads, but frankly you’ve no right to call anyone a tosser.” 

“Oh no?” Sirius turned in Remus’s arms, facing him and grinning as he nosed the other man’s cheek. “Something you trying to say?” 

Remus smiled and then kissed Sirius gently, “Empty house, Pads.” 

Sirius snorted, “Yeah, for the next seven years.” 

Remus licked his lips and pulled back just far enough that he could tug the jacket down off of Sirius’s arms, letting it fall to the floor. “It’s a lot of time to make up for--” 

“You act like we haven’t touched each other in eons,” Sirius laughed, then reached to unbutton Remus’s trousers. 

“Not without worrying that our snot-nosed kid might walk in on us.” 

“I’m gonna miss him.” 

“I know, me too. It’ll be too quiet without you two going at it all of the time.” 

“Alright, enough talking about Harry while you’re-- fuck,” Sirius gasped as Remus’s hands made their way down into his trousers. 

“Enough talking,” Remus said in a gruff voice, “Full stop.” 

“But I wanted to take advantage of the fact that we don’t need a silencing charm,” Sirius pulled Remus’s bottom lip down with one finger and then slid it gently in between the man’s teeth. 

Remus bit down gently, cocking his head and then pushing the finger out to say, “What about Kreacher?” 

“Fuck the elf.” Sirius slid his hands down Remus’s sides and grabbed his bottom, pulling their bodies together. “No, wait,” he paused for a moment and smirked, “Fuck the wolf.” 

Remus rolled his eyes. “Will you shut up?”  
Sirius smirked and made a motion as if to zipper his lips closed, then pulled Remus into a fierce kiss. His soft chuckle turned into a gasp as Remus ducked down to lift his tee shirt and kiss a hot trail up his abdomen, lifting the cool cotton from his skin as he went. Once Sirius’s shirt was properly tossed aside, Remus turned and used his wand to knock the photo of James and Lily down onto its front. Sirius laughed again and tugged off Remus’s jumper. 

The pair were all limbs and laughter as they tumbled into bed, and it was in moments like these that Sirius could let go for a time, forget the ever present weight of being thirty years old and raising his dead best friends’ child who was also the reason that the darkest wizard in their lifetime had been half-alive and in hiding for a decade. He could remind himself of what it was to truly _feel_ and to forget that the weight of the world was prophesied to be carried on the shoulders of one of the people he loved most. 

***

When the owl came later that evening, Sirius had barely torn it open before he was whooping and jumping up and down. “Bloody hell, mate! I knew he was our boy!” He laughed as Remus came to look over his shoulder, and the pair read the rest of the letter together, their faces falling in fear as they reached the bottom.

_Padfoot & Moony,  
I’ve been sorted into Gryffindor. Ron too. You should have heard Fred and George taking the piss at him before the sorting, he was sure he was going to be sorted into Hufflepuff. Although I never really understood why that would be a bad thing, being loyal, isn’t that why you’re a mutt, Pads?_

_Anyway, Gryffindor it is, reckon’ Dad would have been proud. Mom too, although from what Moony says, she would have been proud no matter what. I hope you’re both proud, too._

_So obviously I’m rooming with Ron, which is ace, and Neville is in our’s too. The other two, Dean and Seamus seem nice enough, so yeah, I’m pretty excited about that. Not sure we’re going to be close enough to become secret Animagi, but I also think that I’m not quite as stupid as you were when you were young, guess we’ll see._

_Also, something weird happened at dinner after the sorting and I figured I should tell you both. I got a pain in my scar. I think it happened when the potions ~~proffessor~~ ~~profesor~~ teacher was looking at me, but I could be wrong. Any idea what that could mean?_

_I’m sure it’s nothing, and I don’t mean to make you worry, I’m having a great time._

_Love you both,_

_Harry_

Sirius and Remus looked at each other, both of their faces mirroring the worry of the other. 

“Who’s teaching potions?” Sirius asked after a moment. 

“Wouldn’t know. We can write and ask, but what do you think it means?” 

Sirius reached to grab Remus’s hand. 

“I don’t know.”


	18. Nightmares and Negotiations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again. I promise I will finish the story. I'm just moving slowly. Because work is killing me, anxiety is bad, and I'm just tired. But I WILL keep moving forward. Promise.

Sirius let out a pained gasp as he jolted awake, and within seconds, like a practiced routine, Remus was straddled on top of him, hands pressed firmly onto his shoulders, their faces barely a centimeter apart. “Breathe with me, Pads.” Sirius complied, focusing on the weight pressed into his body, the smell of Remus’s breath on his face, and the softness in Remus’s voice, constant and loving and _real_. “Are you with me?” 

“Yeah, mate,” he said after a few moments, “I’m back.” 

“What was it this time?” 

“More of the same.” 

It had been like this for weeks since Harry’s owl. Sirius would wake with a start from visions of his father coming at him, or of James and Lily’s bodies, or about awful things happening to Harry. Regardless of how long it had been, of how much time was between Sirius and the horrors of his past, they still crept into his dreams, tendrils of darkness enveloping and encroaching upon the brightness that he’d finally begun to let into his life. And now, with the knowledge of what happened to his brother, with the vision of Regulus being pulled into a dark abyss by spindly arms and hands, the protective instinct he had only grew stronger. As did the fear he had of something happening to his godson. 

As if he were reading Sirius’s mind, Remus brushed aside a tendril of hair and spoke, “Harry’s fine. He’s safe, he’s healthy, he’s getting detentions for being caught out of bed in the middle of the bloody night.”

Sirius forced a smile, which was met by a kiss on the forehead from Remus. “The little shit should be grateful that Filch caught him _after_ he’d rid himself of the dragon.” 

Remus laughed, “Can you imagine?” 

“Oh, I have been, trust me. The face he’d have made--” he chuckled. 

“He’s okay, Sirius,” Remus leaned in and gently nosed Sirius’s cheek. 

“I know he is. And he tells us when he’s not; I blame you and all of your insistence that this family talk about our feelings. I’d just as soon hold it all in until I have the chance to take it out on some bloke at a pub.” 

“I do know this about you. Hence my insistence.” Remus leaned in for a kiss. “He’s okay.” 

“He’s okay.” 

***

Sirius’s reaction when he actually found out who was teaching the potions courses at Hogwarts shouldn’t have surprised anyone, but somehow Remus had found himself feeling off balance by the petulant rage that his partner seemed unable to control. While he was relieved that the anger seemed to have waned over the course of the weeks that followed, he wasn’t entirely certain that the resulting anxiety and sadness was preferable, but at least he could do something to help in the latter moments. 

It wasn’t that he wasn’t upset about Snape getting a job at Hogwarts, Remus was certain that Dumbledore had more than enough reason to have hired him, and while he’d never been a huge fan of the man, Severus was undoubtedly talented in his field, and certainly qualified to teach. 

When Harry owled after the sorting, Sirius and Remus had immediately contacted Dumbledore, who flooed in for a quick visit that night. Sirius had all but gone off the handle at the news that Severus Snape was educating his godson, and stormed out of the sitting room to pour himself a stiff drink. 

“And you’re certain Harry’s never complained of his scar hurting before, yes?” Dumbledore spoke to Remus, although his eyes were fixed on the door from which Sirius had just left the room. 

“Not that he’s ever told us,” Remus assured him, thinking back, “And I’m sure this will change as he enters his teens, but he’s not one to keep things from Sirius. Or myself, for that matter.” 

“Yes, it seems the boy has been raised to know that his concerns and fears are yours as well.” 

“He’s been raised to know that he’s loved,” Sirius said bitterly as he re-entered the room with an almost full rocks glass in hand. 

“Yes. I can see that. So this is clearly an anomaly, then.” Dumbledore sat in silent thought for a moment, twinkles of comprehension ebbing and flowing is the bright blueness of his eyes.

Remus had always been in awe of the way you could see Dumbledore’s minding working. Like some sort of complicated mechanism that had the incredible capacity to understand the world on all of its planes. Even Sirius was looking at the man, eyes narrowed with acute curiosity at what was happening behind the stoic expression. 

“Well, then.” Dumbledore said after a moment, and then rose to his feet, “I do believe I need to have a chat with Rubeus about a recent acquisition of his.”

“Wait, what?!” Sirius shot Remus a desperate look. “You’re just leaving? To go _chat_ with Hagrid? What about Snape? What about Harry?” 

“Sirius--” Remus knew that the plea would fall flat.

***

That had been a week ago, and still Sirius was waking from nightmares. 

When it was like this during the war, they would do whatever it took just to stay up until which point that Sirius couldn’t help but pass out. Through their exhaustion they’d read out loud to each other from Remus’s collection of Muggle science fiction novels. They’d talk. Drink. Eat. Fuck. Whatever.

But now, neither of them could bring themselves to find a distraction from the worry that had overcome their household. Instinct informed the fog that was settling in the space between them, and no matter how many times they repeated, “he’s okay,” Sirius couldn’t shake the feeling that they were at the precipice of something awful. 

And then, a few days later, another owl was pecking at the window. 

“Oh, brûle en l’enfer fils de pute.” Sirius’s jaw dropped reading the letter from Harry. 

“You’re speaking French, Pads, and that worries me,” Remus came in from the study and narrowed his eyes at Sirius. “What’s wrong?” 

“The Fawn had his detention. They found someone slaying unicorns in the forest, who the fuck sends an 11-year-old into the Forbidden Forest--, and apparently Harry had an extensive conversation with a centaur.” 

“And?” 

“The centaurs think it’s You-Know-Who killing the unicorns.” 

“He’s at Hogwarts?” 

Sirius nodded solemnly. 

“Well, then the French makes sense.” 

“Fucking right it does.” Sirius let out a heavy sigh. 

***

“What do you mean, the Philosopher’s Stone is here?” This time it was Remus whose tone was incredulous in the face of Albus Dumbledore. 

“As I’m sure you know,” Dumbledore’s voice was steady, “I’ve long been a friend and colleague of Mr. Flamel, and thus when he asked for my assistance in keeping it safe, I had to oblige.” 

“Safe from what?” Sirius asked, brows raised. 

“It had been in a safe at Gringotts. There was an attempted theft.” 

“On Gringotts?” Remus let out a breath. “Did they catch--”

“Unfortunately not,” Dumbledore said softly, “The Dark Detectors didn’t sense anything going in or out, it was only when the vault entrance was meddled with that they went off. And then nothing.” 

“And no one saw anything?” Sirius found that hard to believe. 

“Apparently not. And the goblins were particularly perturbed by this, it seems, because their wards are capable of revealing any disguise.”

Sirius furrowed his brow, then looked at Remus for a long moment. Something wasn’t making sense, but there were no answers in the honey of Remus’s eyes. He started pacing, letting the hollow sound of each footfall resonate in his mind like a metronome keeping time of his thoughts. It didn’t make sense. Or else it made _too_ much sense. Regardless, he couldn’t quite figure out how it was all connected. 

Remus watched Sirius pace, then turned back to Dumbledore. “So You-Know-You is _here_? On the Hogwarts grounds? And trying to get to the Philosopher’s Stone?”

“I suspect as much,” Dumbledore’s reply was calm. 

“Snape,” Sirius hissed, stopping his movements to glare at Dumbledore, “You trusted him and he helped bring--”

“Now, Mr. Black,” Dumbledore’s voice grew curt. “I have every confidence that Severus is my man, through and through, for reasons that go far beyond what you know of his Patronus.”

Sirius huffed, and Remus looked at him quizzically. Sirius shook his head and mouthed the word _later_. 

“If it’s not him, then who is it?” Sirius’s tone had grown accusatory, and Remus winced at the sound of it. 

“I have had several recent conversations, including the one with Hagrid I alluded to the last time we spoke, but at this juncture I don’t have anything more than suspicions.” 

“Suspicions!?” Sirius was yelling now. “You have suspicions and you didn’t think this important enough to tell _us_? You know, Remus and I, the boy’s _parents_?”

“Mr. Black, I don’t want to jump to any conclu--” 

“Might it be prudent to have a conversation with the centaurs?” Remus asked, ever the pragmatic one in the room, and using his question to calm Sirius in addition to the attempt at more information. “Would they be willing to share what they know with someone who might comprehend it a bit more than our eleven year old?” 

Dumbledore nodded in consideration. “They may, although, like many of the world’s magical creatures, centaurs are often reluctant to speak about such things with our kind. They much prefer other creatures. I believe Harry was a stark exception.” Sirius cocked his head at the twinkle in Dumbledore’s eye and glared.

Remus, seeming to understand something that Sirius didn’t, nodded, then sighed, then rose from his seat and looked at Sirius. “Fancy a walk, Pads?”


End file.
